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TUFTS   UNIVERSITY    LIBRARIES 


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Webster  Family  Library  of  Veterinary  Medicine 
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HORSES,  GUNS,  AND 
DOGS 


HORSES,   GUNS 
AND    DOGS 


BY 


J.  OTHO  PAGET,  GEORGE  A.  B.  DEWAR 
A.  B.  PORTMAN,  and  A.  INNES  SHAND 


NEW   YORK 
LONGMANS,    GREEN,    AND    CO. 

LONDON:    GEORGE    ALLEN 
1903 


Printed  by 

Ballantyne,  Hanson  &'  Co. 

Edinburgh 


CONTENTS 

PART  I.— HORSES 

By  J.  OTHO  PAGET 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  Food,  Physic,  and  Exercise       ....       3 

II.  First   Riding    Lessons:    and    the    Hunting 

Field 16 

III.  The  Choice  of  a  Horse:  and  its  Handling.      41 

IV.  Various  Hints  in  Riding  and  Driving  .       .      63 
V.  Hints  in  Riding  and  Driving — continued.        .      82 


PART  II.— GUNS 

By  GEORGE  A.  B.  DEWAR 

I.  Beginning  to  Shoot  :  and  the  Management 

OF  the  Gun 109 

II.  Rabbits,  Partridges,  and  Pigeons    .       .       .143 

III.  Advanced  Shooting.    By  Arthur  B.  Portman    170 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

PART  III.— DOGS 

By  ALEX.    INNES   SHAND 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  Dogs  in  Books  and  Real  Life  .       .       .       .187 

IL  Breeds  of  Dogs 223 

in.  Dog  Diseases  and  their  Cures        .        .       .    245 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


PART    I.— HORSES 

••  And,  Behold,  you  are  i 

Blooded  ! "  \        '       ^^^^^M?^  z«  coloiir— Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Headpiece  to  Chapter  I 3 

»  „         II 16 

"Make  Acquaintance  withi 

J-      Ftdl pas^e  in  colour — to  face       '^S 
the  Huntsman'   .        .     J  jo 

Headpiece  to  Chapter  III 41 

IV 63 

V 82 

PART   II.— GUNS 


Headpiece  to  Chapter  I 


109 


'*  The  Calculating  Wisdom^ 

OF  Rabbits"  (A  scene  from  \     Full  page  in  colotir — to  face     130 
real  life)    ....     J 

Headpiece  to  Chapter  II 143 

»  „        III 170 

xi 


Xll 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


PART    III.— DOGS 

Headpiece  to  Chapter  I 
A  Pair  of  Poachers 
Tailpiece  to  Chapter  I 
Headpiece  to  Chapter  II 
Tailpiece  to  Chapter  II 
Headpiece  to  Chapter  III 
Tailpiece  to  Chapter  III 


PAGE 

•                  •                  • 

' 

•                  • 

187 

Full  page  in 

colour- 

-to  face 

190 

222 

223 

244 

245 

254 

PART    I.  — HORSES 

By  J.  OTHO  PAGET 


KOBE 
-  T  H  3S  • 


P  O  IV  Y        T  II  A^  Tsr 


B  JE  E  IV 


CHAPTER    I 


FOOD,   PHYSIC,   AND   EXERCISE 


The  boy  who  wants  to  ride  and  own  horses  even- 
tually should  know  all  about  them.  The  engineer 
who  hopes  to  get  to  the  head  of  his  profession 
has  to  pass  through  the  drudgery  of  the  work- 
shop before  he  can  rise  to  a  higher  plane.  The 
smallest  detail  and  the  ordinary  routine  of  any 
business  or  pleasure  ought  to  be  at  the  finger-ends 
of  the  man  who  wishes  to  become  the  real  and  not 
the  nominal  controller  of  the  people  he  employs. 
These  truisms  are  so  well  known  that  it  may  seem 


4  HORSES 

unnecessary  to  set  them  down  here,  but  it  is  as 
well  to  impress  them  on  your  memory,  as  we  are 
all  rather  inclined  to  fly  before  we  can  walk. 

If  your  parents  can  afford  to  keep  horses,  they  can 
probably  also  afford  to  pay  men  to  look  after  them, 
and  therefore  the  whole  of  your  holidays  need  not 
be  spent  in  the  stable.  You  can,  however,  get  a 
rudimentary  idea  of  the  way  things  should  be  done 
if  you  ask  your  father's  head  man  to  give  you  a 
little  instruction — how  to  groom  a  pony,  how  to 
put  a  saddle  and  bridle  on,  &c.,  for  there  is  a  knack 
in  performing  these  operations.  If  you  are  born  to 
wealth,  you  may  not  be  obliged  to  saddle  a  horse 
more  than  two  or  three  times  in  your  life,  but,  when 
the  occasion  does  come,  you  would  like  to  be  able 
to  do  it  properly.  Knowledge  of  all  kinds  is 
always  worth  acquiring,  and  you  can  never  tell 
when  it  will  be  useful.  Take  the  head  of  the 
bridle  in  the  right  hand,  the  bit  in  the  palm  of 
the  left,  then  slip  your  thumb  in  the  corner  of  the 
horse's  mouth,  when  you  will  find  he  will  open  it, 
and  the  thing  is  done. 

When  you  take  your  pony  out  yourself,  you 
should  make  a  practice  of  trying  all  four  feet  to 
see  if  any  shoes  are  loose,  and  if  there  are  any 
clinches  up  that  he  might  possibly  cut  himself  with. 
The  clinches  are  the  ends  of  the  nails  that  have 
been  hammered  down,  but  which  work  up  as  the 
shoe  wears  thin. 

The  boy  who  is  fortunate  enough  to  live  in  the 
country  should  not  aspire  to  a  stabled  pony  until 


FOOD,    PHYSIC,   AND    EXERCISE  5 

he  has  become  a  fairly  proficient  rider.  The  pony 
that  lives  in  a  stable  and  is  corn  fed,  is  apt  to 
develop  tricks  which  are  disconcerting  to  the  in- 
experienced youthful  horseman,  and  it  is  all-im- 
portant to  the  beginner  to  have  full  confidence  in 
himself.  Confidence  is  the  first  thing  to  be  ac- 
quired, and  anything  to  shake  it  is  liable  to  injure 
the  nerves. 

A  feed  of  corn  the  day  he  is  ridden  is  quite 
enough  to  keep  a  pony  in  good  heart  at  grass, 
and  more  young  nerves  have  been  ruined  by  the 
stabled  pony  than  anything  else.  This  is  a  picture 
of  what  frequently  occurs.  Master  George  comes 
home  for  the  summer  holidays,  an4  his  pony,  who 
has  been  at  grass,  is  brought  up.  For  the  first 
week  or  two  he  rides  regularly,  and  then  there 
is  a  cricket  match  to  be  played,  or  something 
more  exciting  than  a  lonely  ride.  Meanwhile 
the  pony,  who  was  rapidly  becoming  fit,  has  the 
same  allowance  of  corn  as  a  sixteen-hand  horse 
and  little  or  no  exercise.  No  groom  would  ever 
think  it  necessary  regularly  to  exercise  a  pony. 
The  day  comes  when  Master  George  wants  to  ride 
again,  and  John  is  told  to  saddle  the  pony.  There 
is  a  little  prancing  about  at  the  start,  but  except 
that  George  thinks  his  pony's  back  feels  higher 
than  usual,  all  goes  well  until  they  reach  a  strip 
of  grass.  George  decides  to  have  a  canter,  and  digs 
in  his  heels.  The  next  minute  the  green  grass  rises 
up  to  meet  him,  and  then  he  finds  it  hitting  him 
hard  in  the  back.     He    has   only  been  kicked  off, 


6  HORSES 

but  it  is  a  very  unpleasant  sensation,  and  very  bad 
for  the  nerves. 

The  winter  holidays  are  of  course  different,  and 
two  days  a  week  hunting  will  be  sufficient  to  keep 
any  pony  exercised,  but  in  the  summer  no  boy 
likes  to  be  forced  to  ride  every  day — it  is  too  much 
like  the  regular  routine  of  school. 

I  do  not,  however,  advise  the  boy  who  is  only 
learning  to  ride  to  begin  hunting  at  once,  as  a  pony 
may  be  the  quietest  beast  on  ordinary  occasions  and 
yet,  directly  he  hears  hounds,  develop  an  unex- 
pected and  uncomfortable  fire. 

The  nerves  of  a  boy  are  very  sensitive,  and  the 
more  highly  strung  they  are,  the  more  liable  they 
are  to  feel  the  impression  of  any  shock.  The 
gradual  growth  of  manhood's  vigour  will  strengthen 
them,  and  the  nervous  lad  is  most  likely  to  become 
the  man  with  iron  nerve.  Despair  not  therefore, 
parent,  because  your  son  appears  timid  at  the  start ; 
it  is  not  funk,  but  merely  a  feeling  of  insecurity  in 
the  saddle  which  begets  a  want  of  confidence.  The 
boy  who  gets  on  to  the  back  of  a  pony  with  fear 
and  trembling,  will  cheerfully  stand  up  to  a  bigger 
boy  than  himself  and  take  a  hiding  like  a  man. 
For  some  reason  girls  suffer  much  less  than  boys 
from  nerves,  and  it  is  only  in  later  life  they  know 
the  curse. 

Good  nerves  are  absolutely  indispensable  to  the 
man  who  wishes  to  ride  well  or  to  be  really  suc- 
cessful in  anything  he  undertakes.  It  means  the 
presence    of    mind    to    act    on    emergencies  with 


FOOD,    PHYSIC,   AND    EXERCISE  7 

quickness  and  decision.  The  man  with  weak  nerves 
does  not  fail  from  want  of  courage,  but  the  shock 
of  an  unexpected  situation  deadens  his  brain  and 
makes  him  incapable  of  acting  at  the  moment. 
You  must  forgive  me  for  dwelling  on  this  subject, 
but  it  is  so  all -important  to  you  now  that  I  feel 
there  is  ample  excuse  for  a  lecture. 

Nerve  is,  in  the  first  place,  a  question  of  health. 
Don't  begin  smoking  too  early,  and,  when  you  do 
begin,  smoke  in  moderation.  You  may  not  feel 
any  immediate  ill  effects  from  the  free  indulgence 
of  the  cigarette  or  pipe,  but  you  are  handicapping 
yourself  in  the  race  to  a  vigorous  manhood.  The 
pipe  is  better  than  the  cigarette,  but,  if  you  prefer 
the  latter,  limit  yourself  to  a  certain  number  in  the 
week,  and  don't  exceed  it.  Of  course  boys  would 
be  all  the  better  if  they  never  touched  tobacco  till 
they  were  eighteen  ;  but  if  a  boy  wants  to  smoke  he 
will,  and  it  is  better  to  do  it  with  the  full  knowledge 
of  his  father  than  in  secret.  Fathers  forget  that 
they  were  boys  once,  and  sons  don't  realise  that 
in  the  course  of  time  they  will  become  men. 

Strong  tea  is  another  luxury  that  is  responsible 
for  the  ruin  of  nerves,  both  young  and  old.  Of 
course  every  one  knows  that  the  man  who  takes 
too  much  wine  or  spirits  is  certain  to  lose  his 
nerve,  but  boys  are  seldom  guilty  of  this  failing, 
though  they  should  remember  it  is  a  taste  that 
grows  with  age,  and  should  therefore  put  the  curb 
on  before  it  takes  hold  of  them.  I  can't  do  better 
than  advise  you  to  be  moderate  in  everything. 


8  HORSES 

Forget  you  are  a  boy,  and  remember  only 
that  you  are  the  coming  man.  Young  England 
to-day  is  the  father  of  England's  future.  Fresh 
air  and  moderate  living,  with  the  fair  exercise  of 
brain  and  muscle,  will  help  you  to  attain  a  perfect 
manhood. 


There  is  very  little  pleasure  in  owning  horses  if 
the  control  of  the  stable  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
groom,  and  the  knowledge  you  acquire  as  a  boy 
will  help  you  in  later  life  to  rule  your  establish- 
ment. Make  your  own  observations  and  use 
common  sense.  What  we  call  common  sense  is, 
in  my  opinion,  the  most  valuable  gift  that  a  horse- 
owner  can  have.  A  slavish  adherence  to  old- 
fashioned  methods  is  the  stumbling-block  over 
which  nearly  all  grooms  fall. 

We  are  told,  and  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  the 
accuracy  of  the  statement,  that  a  horse's  stomach 
is  very  small  in  comparison  with  the  size  of  the 
animal.  Now  I  think  this  is  a  fact  which  we  should 
always  keep  before  us.  The  first  thing  it  suggests 
is  that  food  should  be  supplied  in  small  quantities 
and  at  frequent  intervals.  If  a  horse  will  not  eat 
the  amount  you  wish  him  to  have  when  given  four 
times  a  day,  let  the  same  quantity  be  divided  into 
six  feeds,  but  never  give  him  more  corn  than  he 
will  finish.  There  is  an  idea  that  horses  doing 
fast  work  require  very  little  hay,  and  it  may  be 
necessary  to  limit  the  amount  given  to  a  very  gross 


FOOD,    PHYSIC,    AND    EXERCISE         9 

feeder,  but  an  animal  with  an  average  appetite  will 
seldom  eat  more  than  is  good  for  him.  The  rack 
should  be  kept  filled  with  fresh  hay,  and  any  that 
is  left  must  be  removed.  Each  grain  of  oats  that 
comes  out  of  the  same  stack  is  practically  of  equal 
quality,  but  with  hay  this  is  not  the  case.  If  you 
watch  horses  grazing  in  a  field  you  will  notice  they 
will  pick  blades  here  and  there,  wandering  over  the 
entire  field  in  search  of  choice  bits,  though  to  you 
all  may  appear  the  same. 

Now  the  hay  we  have  stacked  ready  for  use  in 
the  stable  has  come  from  a  similar  field,  and  is 
generally  composed  of  different  grasses,  some  of 
which  are  agreeable  to  a  horse's  taste  and  some 
not.  Then  also  portions  of  the  stack  vary  con- 
siderably in  quality,  due  either  to  the  process  of 
making  or  to  the  weather  at  the  time  of  stacking, 
or  perhaps  to  the  manure  that  had  been  previously 
applied  to  the  field.  A  horse  should  therefore  be 
allowed  to  select  those  bits  which  he  prefers  in  the 
same  manner  as  when  he  is  at  grass,  and  not  be 
forced  to  clean  up  the  whole  rack.  This  may  appear 
to  you  an  extravagant  method,  but,  if  you  want  to 
get  the  best  results  from  a  horse,  you  must  not  try 
to  economise  with  his  food.  Of  course  when  he  is 
hungry  he  will  eat  anything,  and  the  armful  of 
hay  which  he  picked  over  at  first  he  may  eventually 
consume  when  there  is  no  prospect  of  getting  any- 
thing better,  but  the  question  is,  will  it  do  him 
any  good  ?  In  racing  stables  it  may  be  necessary 
to   limit  the  quantity  of  hay,  but  for  hunting  and 


lo  HORSES 

ordinary  work  it  is  foolish  to  ruin  a  horse's  con- 
stitution in  the  hope  of  gaining  a  Httle  speed.  The 
stomach  requires  a  certain  amount  of  bulky  food, 
and,  if  nothing  but  corn  is  given,  the  health  of  the 
animal  must  eventually  suffer. 

Unless  a  full  bucket  is  always  kept  in  the  stable, 
water  should  be  given  before  feeding.  This  is  a 
rule  to  which  there  is  no  exception.  The  amount 
of  corn  given  should  be  regulated  by  the  work  the 
horse  does,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  most  of  the 
troubles  of  large  stables  come  from  a  too  full 
supply  of  oats  with  insufficient  exercise.  Beans 
should  be  given  sparingly,  and  not  at  all  to  young 
horses. 

This  work  is  not  one  about  fox-hunting,  but  I 
cannot  get  out  of  my  mind  that  the  '*  sport  of 
kings  "  is  the  ultimate  end  for  which  you  are  learn- 
ing to  ride.  To  my  mind,  riding  along  a  road  is  a 
very  tame  amusement,  and  riding  to  hounds  is  the 
greatest  pleasure  in  life.  I  shall  therefore  take  it 
for  granted  that  in  reading  these  pages  you  are 
seeking  for  information  that  will  assist  you  in  em- 
barking on  the  hunting-field. 

Continuing  the  subject  of  feeding,  and  the 
remarks  already  made  on  the  size  of  a  horse's 
stomach,  I  should  impress  on  you  that  it  is  the 
long  day  without  food  which  makes  it  impossible 
to  ride  a  hunter  more  than  twice  a  week.  A  horse 
that  is  watered  and  fed  at  frequent  intervals  will 
travel  sixty  miles  a  day  for  a  week  or  more,  getting 
big  and  strong  on  the  work,  of  course  only  at  a 


FOOD,    PHYSIC,   AND    EXERCISE        ii 

slow  pace,  say  about  six  miles  an  hour.  Pace  and 
want  of  food  must  eventually  wear  out  the  stoutest 
beast  that  ever  looked  through  a  bridle. 

Condition  is  a  very  important  thing  in  a  hunter, 
and  the  muscle  that  is  to  carry  you  through  a  long 
run  cannot  be  built  up  in  a  day.  I  am  a  great 
advocate  for  keeping  horses  in  as  natural  a  state 
as  possible,  but  then  we  must  remember  that  we 
ask  them  to  do  more  than  ever  would  be  required 
of  them  in  their  natural  wild  life.  The  wild  horse 
in  the  most  favourable  country  would  eventually 
succumb  to  one  that  had  been  corn  fed.  What 
we  have  to  do  is  to  increase  the  animal's  mus- 
cular development  by  judicious  exercise,  with  hard 
corn,  and  at  the  same  time  to  keep  his  digestive 
apparatus  in  working  order. 

Farmers  are,  I  imagine,  the  largest  class  of 
breeders  of  hunters  or  ordinary  horses,  and  with 
few  exceptions  they  cannot  afford  to  give  them 
corn.  The  consequence  of  this  is,  a  young  horse 
straight  from  their  hands  hardly  knows  the  taste 
of  oats,  and  his  stomach  is  therefore  not  accus- 
tomed to  such  strong  food.  You  buy  one  of  these 
young  horses,  and  your  groom  begins  immediately 
to  stuff  him  with  a  full  allowance  of  old  oats.  The 
result  of  this  is  humour  and  several  other  com- 
plaints, because  the  digestive  organs  have  not  been 
allowed  time  to  accustom  themselves  to  this  new 
food.  Nature  is  a  very  obliging  servant  when 
treated  properly,  and  is  often  ready  to  adapt  her- 
self   to    altered    conditions,    but    she   will    not   be 


12  HORSES 

hurried.  Grooms  also  forget  that  young  horses, 
that  have  never  before  had  physic,  do  not  require 
such  a  large  dose  as  old  stagers  who  have  been 
stabled  for  years. 

Unless  your  groom  is  very  clever  and  experi- 
enced, never  allow  him  to  give  physic  without 
your  order  or  that  of  the  veterinary  surgeons.  The 
latter  are  much  too  fond  of  giving  medicine  and, 
like  old-fashioned  doctors,  will  prescribe  a  strong 
dose  before  they  even  know  what  is  the  matter. 
Aloes,  I  admit,  are  a  very  useful  purgative,  but  I 
am  quite  certain  they  weaken  the  stomach,  and 
the  more  frequently  they  are  given  the  more  fre- 
quently will  they  be  wanted. 

A  horse  in  hard  work  will  be  all  the  better  for  a 
little  alterative  medicine  once  a  fortnight,  but  I  know 
nothing  cheaper  or  better  than  the  old  prescription 
of  a  teaspoon  of  sulphur  and  a  tablespoon  of  saltpetre. 
A  lump  of  rock-salt  in  the  rack  is  a  good  thing. 

The  question  of  summering  hunters  has  been 
frequently  debated  without  any  satisfactory  con- 
clusion having  been  reached.  I  am  quite  certain 
that  putting  a  horse  into  a  loose-box  and  leaving 
him  there  without  any  exercise  for  two  or  three 
months  is  bad.  This  plan  answers  well  sometimes, 
with  a  plentiful  supply  of  green  food  and  a  small 
allowance  of  corn,  in  getting  the  legs  fine — a  very 
desirable  end  if  you  are  a  dealer,  but  I  am  sup- 
posing that  the  animal  you  summer  is  to  do  hard 
work  in  the  winter.  The  horse  that  has  been  walk- 
ing about  all  the  summer  without  any  weight  on 


FOOD,    PHYSIC,   AND    EXERCISE        13 

his  back  will  be  more  likely  to  stand  work  than  one 
that  has  spent  his  time  in  the  stable ;  the  latter 
may  look  all  right  at  first,  but  a  few  days'  hunting 
will  find  out  his  weak  spots. 

Keeping  horses  in  the  stable  and  giving  them 
regular  walking  exercise  is  the  only  alternative  to 
turning  out  to  grass.  I  prefer  turning  out  :  it  is 
more  natural  and  certainly  cheaper.  The  shoes 
should  be  taken  off,  the  feet  pared  and  rasped 
every  three  weeks.  A  big  roomy  pasture  with 
some  shade  and  a  feed  of  crushed  beans  twice  a 
day  will  keep  the  muscle  on.  It  is  all  the  better 
if  there  is  not  too  much  grass,  as  the  horse  then 
is  kept  walking  about  all  day  to  get  his  fill, 
whereas  when  the  grass  is  too  luxurious  he  soon 
eats  as  much  as  he  requires,  and  will  gallop  about 
or  get  into  mischief.  Don't  run  your  horses  too 
thickly  ;  one  to  every  ten  acres  is  sufficient ;  and  let 
cattle  clear  up  the  rest  of  the  herbage.  The  time 
when  they  require  a  full  bite  is  in  the  spring  when 
first  turned  out,  and  the  fresh  young  grass  is  then 
the  best  natural  physic. 

Your  groom  will  probably  tell  you  that  a  horse 
at  grass  gallops  about  and  knocks  his  legs  to  pieces. 
You  can  reply  that  it  is  better  to  find  out  any 
weakness  in  the  summer  than  in  the  middle  of  the 
hunting  season,  and  that,  if  a  horse  cannot  stand 
galloping  with  no  weight  on  his  back,  he  is  not 
likely  to  carry  you  to  hounds. 

The  general  custom  with  horses  that  have  been 
turned  out  is  to  give  them  a  dose  of  physic  when 


14  HORSES 

they  come  up.  This  means  at  least  five  days  in 
the  stable  without  exercise,  which  must  be  bad  for 
an  animal  which  has  been  accustomed  to  walking 
at  least  eighteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four. 
If  you  are  going  to  physic  them,  give  it  out  at 
grass ;  but  I  think  myself  it  is  quite  unnecessary. 
A  horse  that  has  been  at  grass,  and  has  had  no 
corn,  would  certainly  require  some  medicine  to 
prepare  his  stomach  for  the  change  of  food ;  but 
one  that  has  had  beans  regularly  does  not  require 
it.  If  there  is  a  shed  in  the  field,  it  is  a  good  plan 
to  put  some  hay  in  the  rack  for  the  last  month  ; 
the  horse  will  eat  a  little,  and  it  will  be  preparing 
him  gradually  for  the  coming  change. 

When  you  get  your  hunters  up  from  grass,  they 
should  be  shod  the  same  day  and  taken  out,  being 
exercised  the  next.  I  am  afraid  you  w^ill  not  get 
your  groom  to  do  it ;  but  horses  would  be  all  the 
better  if  they  were  exercised  twice  a  day,  and 
then  two  hours  at  a  time  would  be  quite  sufficient. 
The  danger  with  riding  horses  fresh  from  grass 
is  that  their  backs  are  liable  to  get  sore ;  but  by 
riding  and  leading  them  alternately  the  risk  is 
minimised.  A  good  plan  for  hardening  the  back 
is  to  wash  under  the  saddle  with  strong  salt  and 
water,  directly  they  come  in,  w^hilst  the  skin  is  hot. 

The  mistake  that  is  generally  made  is  treating 
a  horse  that  has  been  corn  fed  at  grass  as  if  he 
had  done  no  work  at  all,  whereas  he  has  probably 
done  more  trotting  and  galloping  than  one  that 
has   been   regularly   exercised.     The   consequence 


FOOD,    PHYSIC,    AND    EXERCISE        15 

is  a  horse  is  often  less  fit  after  a  fortnight  in  the 
stable  than  the  day  he  came  out  of  the  field. 
Some  grooms  give  nothing  but  walking  exercise, 
and  others  believe  solely  in  a  slow  trot ;  but  the 
best  method  is  a  combination  of  the  two,  varied 
by  plenty  of  slow  cantering  work.  The  horse 
that  gets  his  four  hours  of  slow  trotting  every 
morning  is  bored  and  weary  of  life  before  the 
season  commences.  Hunters  should  never  be 
trotted  fast,  as  there  is  nothing  worse  for  legs 
and  feet.  A  slow  canter  and  an  occasional  sharp 
sprint  of  two  or  three  furlongs  will  prepare  a 
horse  for  anything  he  will  be  asked  to  do  in  the 
hunting-field. 


CHAPTER   II 


FIRST  RIDING  LESSONS  :   AND  THE  HUNTING  FIELD 


Horsemanship  is  a  combination  of  hands  and  seat, 
strengthened  by  nerve.  It  cannot  be  learnt  by- 
reading  a  book,  and  must  be  acquired  by  practice. 
Good  nerve,  I  have  already  said,  is  merely  a 
question  of  health. 

There  are  some  people  who  lack  that  delicate, 
sympathetic  touch  in  the  fingers  v^hich  goes  to 
make  first-class  ^'hands'';  but,  though  they  can 
never  know  the  magnetic  feeling  which  should  exist 
between  horse  and  rider,  they  may  with  care  avoid 

i6 


FIRST    RIDING    LESSONS  17 

torturing  the  animal  they  ride.  This,  like  every- 
thing else,  may  be  learnt  much  easier  in  early  life, 
and  a  boy  should  never  allow  himself  to  get  into 
the  habit  of  hanging  on  by  the  reins.  The  first 
thing  is  to  remember  that  a  horse's  mouth  is  both 
delicate  and  sensitive,  to  be  made  hard  and  callous 
only  by  our  bad  usage.  If  a  boy  by  a  stretch 
of  imagination  will  think  that  the  reins  are  made 
of  thread,  and  that  a  hard  pull  will  break  them, 
he  will  get  into  the  way  of  touching  them  lightly. 
When  you  are  first  learning  to  ride,  your  natural 
instinct  prompts  you  to  clutch  at  anything  that 
may  preserve  your  balance,  and  the  reins  in  your 
hand  will  of  course  come  first.  This  is  what  you 
must  avoid.  Never  use  the  reins  for  that  purpose, 
but  rather  hold  on  to  the  pommel  if  your  equili- 
brium is  threatened. 

I  should  always  advise  a  boy  to  use  a  snaffle 
bridle,  and  parents  should  never  provide  a  pony 
that  cannot  be  ridden  in  that  bit.  I  would  even  go 
further,  and  say  that  no  man  ought  to  be  allowed 
to  use  a  curb  bridle  unless  he  has  fairly  good  hands. 
The  curb,  which  to  an  accomplished  horseman 
is  an  assistance  in  the  higher  art  of  equestrianism, 
is,  in  the  grasp  of  the  heavy-fisted,  an  instrument  of 
torture  to  the  animal  he  rides.  The  bars  are  the 
sensitive  part  of  the  horse's  mouth,  and  the  use 
of  the  curb  is  to  bring  the  head  down,  so  that 
the  bit  falls  on  those  bars.  Now  the  poor  animal's 
only  protection  against  heavy  hands  is  to  get  the 
bit   in    the    corner  of    the    mouth,   where  there  is 

B 


i8  HORSES 

little  or  no  feeling,  and  the  bad  rider  can  hang 
on  there  without  doing  much  damage.  If,  how- 
ever, the  curb  is  used,  the  bit  is  brought  to  bear 
on  the  sensitive  bars,  when  the  poor  beast  is  driven 
mad  with  pain  and  discomfort.  Horses  that  run 
away,  or  are  always  throwing  up  their  heads,  have 
usually  been  driven  to  these  habits  by  bad  hands. 

There  is  a  general  idea  that  delicate  handling 
is  not  necessary  when  a  snaffle  bridle  is  used,  but 
this  is  a  mistake.  The  plain  snaffle  bit  should 
always  be  the  chief  medium  for  conveying  your 
wishes  to  the  horse,  and  the  curb  should  be  looked 
on  as  an  assistant  only.  A  curb  is  also  of  use  in 
balancing  a  horse,  but  that  is  a  proceeding  which 
the  beginner  had  better  not  worry  himself  about. 
No  horse  can  be  considered  perfect  unless  he  is 
well  balanced,  and  one  which  is  built  that  way 
will  never  be  a  hard  puller.  A  good  horseman 
can,  by  a  delicate  manipulation  of  the  reins,  give 
a  horse  an  artificial  balance,  whereas  the  same 
animal,  in  the  hands  of  a  bad  rider,  would  be 
galloping  with  the  whole  weight  of  his  body 
thrown  on  to  his  shoulders. 

You  may  liken  a  horse  to  a  steel  rod  which,  when 
it  is  bent  in  curves,  develops  a  great  springing 
power.  The  curb  makes  the  horse  bend  his  head 
and  bring  his  hocks  underneath  him,  when  the 
steel  rod  may  be  said  to  have  become  a  spring.  In 
this  position  a  horse  is  capable  of  exerting  his 
greatest  power  for  jumping.  You  will  also  under- 
stand that  your  weight  will  make  a  considerable 


FIRST    RIDING    LESSONS  19 

difference  in  the  working  of  the  spring,  and  much 
will  depend  on  the  position  of  the  weight.  These 
are,  however,  some  of  the  more  intricate  points 
of  the  riding  art  which  the  beginner  need  not 
trouble  himself  with  ;  but  I  want  you  to  appre- 
ciate the  fact  that  sticking  to  the  saddle  and 
riding  over  a  fence  does  not  constitute  a  hrst- 
class  horseman. 

The  boy  who  is  learning  to  ride  must  above  all 
things  avoid  getting  into  some  bad  trick  or  habit, 
as  once  such  is  acquired  it  is  very  difhcult  to 
throw  off.  He  must  cultivate  a  quiet  neatness  in 
dress,  and  there  must  be  nothing  in  his  whole 
manner  or  bearing  to  draw  attention  to  him.  A 
very  ugly  trick,  which  some  men  and  many  women 
have,  is  resting  the  hand  on  the  hip  and  sticking 
out  the  elbow.  Sit  straight  up  in  your  saddle,  don't 
round  your  shoulders,  and  keep  your  hands  as  low 
as  you  can  get  them,  with  your  elbows  close  to  your 
side.  The  legs  should  hang  straight  from  the  knee, 
and  the  heels  slightly  down.  The  body,  above  the 
waist,  should  bend  freely  and  easily  with  every  move- 
ment of  the  horse,  while,  below  the  waist,  it  should 
be  firm  and  immovable.  This  is,  I  think,  the  whole 
secret  of  riding,  and  embodies  the  principle  of  it  in 
a  nutshell.  Allow  me  therefore  to  repeat — be  pliant 
in  your  body  and  stiff  in  your  legs. 

In  riding  at  a  fence,  lean  forward  as  your  horse 
rises  and  lean  back  as  he  lands  ;  but  this  will  come 
more  naturally  to  you  after  a  time.  At  the  moment 
of  landing  your  weight  should  be  as  far  back  as 


20  HORSES 

possible  ;  because,  if  the  horse  makes  a  sUght 
mistake,  you  are  not  so  hable  to  come  off,  and  also 
because,  with  your  weight  off  his  shoulders,  the 
animal  can  more  easily  recover. 

Most  steeplechasing  experts  ride  with  the  feet 
home  in  the  stirrups,  but  for  hunting  and  ordinary 
riding  the  ball  of  the  foot  should  rest  only  on  the 
iron.  There  are,  however,  many  first-class  men 
who  ride  with  the  feet  home,  but  I  think  the  other 
method  is  better,  because  you  are  able  thereby  to  get 
a  more  delicate  feel  of  a  horse's  mouth ;  and  for  the 
same  reason  I  advocate  the  arm  being  slightly  bent 
at  the  elbow.  Steeplechasing  is  altogether  different, 
as  arms  and  legs  should  then  be  quite  straight. 
You  have  to  hold  your  horse  together  for  ten 
minutes  or  more  w'ithout  a  moment's  relief,  and 
you  would  find  the  bent  arm  a  great  strain  on  the 
muscles.  You  will  see  men  who  are  even  strong 
and  in  first-class  condition,  but  unaccustomed  to 
riding  races,  quite  tired  out  with  three  miles  be- 
tw^een  the  flags,  whilst  a  mere  boy  w4io  is  used  to 
the  game  will  finish  as  fresh  as  when  he  started. 

I  am  not,  however,  going  to  discuss  race  riding 
here,  and  if  you  wish  to  become  an  expert  I  should 
advise  you  to  get  some  one  w^ho  trains  chasers  to 
let  you  ride  gallops  over  a  course.  If  you  will 
take  my  advice  you  will  leave  it  alone,  as  you  are 
nearly  certain  to  get  hurt  sooner  or  later,  and 
you  will  find  quite  enough  risks  in  the  hunting- 
field,  with  a  great  deal  more  satisfaction. 

I  ought  before  this  to  have  given  you  a  few  hints 


FIRST    RIDING    LESSONS  21 

on  mounting,  as  the  would-be  horseman  must  get 
into  the  saddle  ere  he  begins  to  ride.  It  is  usual  to 
mount  on  the  near  (left)  side,  but  I  advise  a  boy  to 
practise  getting  up  on  both  sides,  as,  if  he  hurts  his 
leg,  he  may  find  it  convenient.  We  will,  however, 
consider  now  mounting  only  on  the  near  side. 

Stand  in  front  of  the  saddle,  grasp  mane  and  reins 
with  the  left  hand,  then  place  your  left  foot  in  the 
stirrup,  and  swing  yourself  up.  In  this  way,  if  the 
horse  should  happen  to  move  on,  the  movement 
helps  you  to  rise  ;  whereas,  if  you  stand  behind  the 
saddle,  a  very  nasty  accident  may  be  the  result. 
Another  way  of  mounting  a  young  horse,  or  one 
that  will  not  stand,  is  to  grasp  the  cheek  of  bridle 
in  the  left  hand,  and  swing  yourself  up  with  the 
pommel,  but  before  doing  this  you  should  ascertain 
that  the  girths  are  sufficiently  tight,  or  the  saddle 
may  slip. 

Mounting  and  dismounting  ought  to  be  the  first 
step  in  boys'  riding  lessons,  though  of  course  when 
they  begin  to  ride  as  children  this  is  not  possible. 
I  am  thinking,  however,  of  a  boy  between  eight  and 
ten,  who  with  a  little  instruction  would  soon  be 
able  to  get  into  the  saddle  without  any  help  and 
without  any  one  holding  his  pony's  head.  When 
he  has  accomplished  this,  he  may  be  trusted  to  go 
out  by  himself,  and  nothing  tends  to  give  a  boy 
greater  confidence  than  to  go  for  a  ride  without 
being  accompanied  by  parent  or  groom.  I  always 
think  that  it  is  a  good  plan  for  the  first  mounting 
lesson  to  be  given  in  the  stable,  and  it  is  also  an 


22  HORSES 

excellent  place  to  show  a  boy  how  to  sit  in  the 
saddle.  If  he  starts  riding  at  once,  his  sole  idea  is 
sticking  to  the  saddle,  and  any  hints  that  may  be 
given  then  will  be  entirely  unheeded. 

There  is  of  course  a  wide  difference  between  a 
horse  standing  still  and  one  in  motion,  but  a  boy 
will  gain  a  familiarity  with  the  saddle,  and,  not 
being  afraid  of  falling  off,  will  be  able  to  give  his 
whole  attention  to  his  instructor.  It  is  very  im- 
portant to  get  into  the  habit  of  sitting  in  the  right 
position,  and  once  acquired  it  will  come  naturally 
afterwards. 

Boys  should  never  use  spurs,  but  if  they  want  to 
wear  them,  thinking  to  improve  the  appearance  of  a 
boot,  the  rowels  should  always  be  removed.  Nine 
out  of  ten  grown-up  people  do  not  know  how  to 
use  them,  or  use  them  at  the  wrong  time.  More 
accidents  occur  and  more  horses  run  away  from 
the  use  of  spurs  than  from  any  other  cause.  I 
have  often  seen  a  man,  who  has  been  shaken  from 
the  centre  of  the  saddle  in  going  over  a  jump, 
sawing  at  his  horse's  mouth,  and  vainly  endeavour- 
ing to  stop  it,  whilst  all  the  time  the  spurs  were 
scoring  the  poor  brute's  sides,  and  driving  it  to 
madness. 

There  is  a  wide  divergence  of  opinion  as  to  the 
merits  of  the  best  safety-stirrup,  but  for  a  boy  who 
is  learning  to  ride  I  think  there  is  nothing  better 
than  the  old-fashioned  boot-stirrup.  With  this  it 
is  impossible  to  get  hung  up,  and,  as  the  foot 
cannot   enter   more   than    a   certain    distance,  the 


FIRST   RIDING    LESSONS  23 

boy  gets  into  the  habit  of  riding  on  the  ball  of 
the  foot. 

A  great  many  men,  who  are  otherwise  good  riders, 
cannot  get  out  of  the  habit  of  clutching  at  the  reins 
when  a  horse  is  jumping  a  fence.  This,  let  me  tell 
you,  is  a  fatal  thing  to  do,  and  is  the  cause  of  more 
falls  than  anything  else.  I  think  I  have  already 
stated  that  bending  a  horse's  neck  contracts  the 
action  of  his  hind  legs.  Watch  a  bad  rider,  and 
you  will  see  what  happens  for  yourself.  The  horse 
rises  at  a  fence,  and  for  the  moment  all  is  well ;  but 
then  the  rider  finds  himself  launched  into  mid-air, 
and  involuntarily  takes  a  firm  grip  on  the  reins.  At 
that  second  the  horse  is  wanting  to  stretch  out  his 
neck  and  get  the  full  benefit  of  the  spring  with 
which  he  left  the  ground,  but  the  tightening  rein 
draws  in  the  head  and  contracts  the  muscles  of 
the  hind  quarters.  This  has  the  effect  of  shortening 
the  stride  and  curtailing  the  distance  which  would 
have  been  otherwise  cleared.  The  consequence  is 
the  horse's  hind  legs  usually  catch  on  the  fence, 
and,  if  there  is  a  ditch  beyond,  his  fore  feet  are 
nearly  certain  to  drop  into  it.  This,  of  course, 
means  a  fall,  and  when  the  rider  rises  to  his  feet 
he  generally  pours  out  curses,  and  sometimes  blows, 
on  the  offending  quadruped,  for  a  mistake  com- 
mitted by  the  man  and  not  the  animal. 

The  offenders  themselves  are  very  seldom  aware 
they  are  guilty  of  this  grave  fault,  and,  it  being  a 
delicate  subject  for  advice  by  friends,  they  do 
nothing  to  mend  their  ways.     The  habit,  however. 


24  HORSES 

once  acquired,  is  very  difficult  to  get  out  of,  and 
a  boy  should  be  especially  careful  not  to  fall  into 
it.  You  should  be  able  to  sit  a  horse  over  a  fence 
without  reins,  and  it  is  a  good  plan  to  have  a  few 
rides  in  a  school  on  a  trained  jumper,  so  that  you 
will  get  into  the  habit  of  balancing  yourself  with- 
out assistance  from  the  bridle. 

The  bad  rider  looses  the  reins  as  the  horse  is 
going  at  the  fence,  and  tightens  them  when  in  the 
air. 

The  beginner  should  not — and  in  fact  no  man 
until  he  has  had  considerable  experience  should — 
think  of  giving  any  assistance  to  a  horse  in  the  act 
of  jumping.  A  really  good  rider  with  decent  hands 
can  undoubtedly  help  a  horse,  but  the  average  man 
generally  does  more  harm  than  good  by  his  inter- 
ference. The  boy  to  whom  I  am  now  talking 
need  not  therefore  worry  himself  about  this  ques- 
tion, and  all  he  has  to  think  about  is  to  sit  still 
and  give  the  horse  his  head. 

Do  not,  however,  let  everything  go  before  you 
get  to  the  fence,  or  the  horse  will  not  understand 
your  intentions,  and  may  possibly  refuse  ;  but  just 
keep  a  gentle  feel  on  the  reins  until  you  are  in  the 
air,  and  then  leave  the  animal  to  do  the  rest. 

Sit  forward  as  the  horse  rises  and  back  as  he  lands. 
Failing  to  observe  this  rule  is,  I  firmly  believe,  one 
cause  of  a  beginner  getting  into  the  habit  of  pulling 
at  the  bridle  when  in  the  air.  Just  think  for  a  minute 
and  you  will  see  this  is  reasonable.  The  action  of 
the  horse  rising  from  the  ground  throws  you  back, 


THE    HUNTING    FIELD  25 

and  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  prompts  you 
to  clutch  what  is  in  your  hand — which  is,  of  course, 
the  reins — to  restore  your  balance.  The  horse  has 
meanwhile  reached  the  summit  of  the  arc,  where 
the  slightest  touch  on  the  bridle  must  lessen  the 
width  of  his  leap.  The  involuntary  pull  which  you 
took  on  the  reins  has  more  than  restored  you  to  an 
upright  position,  and  you  are  slightly  forward  of 
the  perpendicular.  The  horse  then  descends,  and 
the  whole  weight  of  your  body,  which  is  already 
inclining  in  that  direction,  goes  forward  and 
either  lands  you  between  his  ears  or  brings  you 
heavily  to  the  ground. 

You  will  therefore  see  that  you  risk  making  your 
horse  fall,  in  the  first  place  by  checking  him  in  the 
air,  and  in  the  second  by  throwing  your  weight 
on  to  his  forehand  at  the  moment  of  landing ;  and 
that,  even  if  he  does  not  fall,  it  is  highly  probable 

that  you  will  *^cut  a  voluntary." 

•  ••••• 

A  gallop  after  hounds  is  the  greatest  pleasure 
that  riding  can  afford,  and  I  therefore  hope  that 
it  is  your  intention  to  take  the  field.  Even  if 
the  hunting  instinct  is  entirely  absent  from  your 
composition,  you  will  find  pleasure  in  galloping 
over  fences,  though  the  sport  itself  does  not  ap- 
peal to  you. 

I  should  always  advise  a  boy  to  begin  his  hunt- 
ing in  a  provincial  country,  where  there  is  no  crowd 
and  where  he  can  gather  some  knowledge  of  the 
sport.     He  should  learn  to  take  an  interest  in  the 


26  HORSES 

doings  of  hounds  before  he  thinks  of  the  fences. 
Let  him  learn  to  sit  his  pony  over  a  fence,  and 
gain  perfect  confidence  in  himself;  then  he  should 
start  out  with  the  sole  idea  of  keeping  as  near 
hounds  as  he  can. 

When  you  go  hunting,  you  must  keep  your  eyes 
and  your  ears  open.  Don't  waste  your  time  in 
admiring  your  boots  and  talking  to  your  friends. 
Every  moment  you  are  out  you  may  learn  some- 
thing, and  you  will  do  well  to  cultivate  a  habit  of 
observation.  Be  on  the  alert  and  ready  to  start 
directly  there  is  a  '^  Holloa-away  ! "  Then  get  after 
hounds  as  quick  as  you  can  and  do  your  best  to 
stick  to  them. 

Pick  your  place  in  the  fence,  and  ride  your  own 
line.  You  will  probably  often  come  to  grief,  and 
experience  only  will  teach  you  the  place  to  choose ; 
but,  if  you  always  follow,  remember  you  will  never 
get  any  better.  Pick  your  place,  and  don't  hesitate 
or  change  your  mind.  Keep  your  eye  on  the  pack, 
and  watch  closely  the  leading  hound ;  you  will 
soon  learn  to  know  when  he  has  the  scent  and 
when  it  is  only  drive  that  carries  him  on.  Directly 
you  notice  him  faltering,  take  a  pull  at  your  horse, 
and  then,  when  the  rest  of  the  pack  reach  him,  you 
will  see  if  they  have  overrun  the  scent. 

Of  course  when  you  first  begin  hunting  you  will 
not  often  be  in  a  position  to  watch  the  leading 
hound  if  it  is  a  difficult  country  to  cross,  but 
you  will  be  able  to  see  him  occasionally,  and  you 
must  make  the  most  of  your  opportunity.     Masters 


THE    HUNTING   FIELD  27 

and  huntsmen  would  be  saved  much  needless 
anxiety  if  their  field  had  been  educated  in  this 
important  point  before  they  attempted  to  follow 
a  pack. 

In  riding  at  a  fence,  always  go  straight  at  it,  as 
by  swerving  off  to  one  side  or  the  other  you  will 
endanger  your  own  life  and  that  of  the  man  behind 
you.  If  the  fence  in  front  of  you  is  found  im- 
practicable on  nearer  approach,  and  you  wish  to 
choose  another  right  or  left,  look  first  of  all  if  by 
doing  so  you  are  likely  to  interfere  with  the  man 
behind  you.  It  is  an  unpardonable  offence  to  cross 
a  man  or  to  take  his  place. 

These  are  all  the  general  rules  of  the  game,  and 
apply  to  the  man  as  well  as  the  boy,  but  I  think  the 
latter  would  like  further  details. 

School  authorities  are  very  inconsiderate  in 
fixing  the  long  holiday  when  there  is  no  hunting, 
but  it  is  generally  possible  to  get  some  cubbing 
before  returning  to  school.  You  must,  however, 
remember  that  cub-hunting  is  meant  for  the  educa- 
tion of  young  hounds,  and  not  for  your  amusement ; 
but  it  is  also  an  excellent  time  for  educating  you 
in  the  sport. 

Let  us  then  suppose  your  pony  is  ready,  that  you 
have  learnt  in  the  paddock  to  sit  him  over  a 
hurdle,  and  have  ascertained  where  hounds  are 
to  meet,  as  well  as  the  time.  You  have  arranged 
with  the  groom  to  call  you,  and  the  kitchenmaid 
has  promised  to  have  a  cup  of  tea  with  some  boiled 
eggs  ready.     Don't  start  out  on  an  empty  stomach. 


28  HORSES 

or  before  many  hours  have  passed  there  will  be  a 
craving  in  that  region  which  will  entirely  spoil 
your  pleasure. 

It  is  a  morning  in  early  September,  and,  as  you 
ride  out  of  the  stable-yard,  the  sun  has  not  yet 
risen,  but  there  is  a  glow  in  the  east  that  is  already 
dispersing  the  darkness  of  night.  A  slight  chilli- 
ness in  the  atmosphere  will  make  you  button  your 
coat,  but  a  few  minutes'  jogging  in  the  saddle  will 
warm  the  blood.  It  was  rather  a  drag  turning  out 
of  bed  at  such  an  early  hour,  but  now  that  you 
have  once  started,  you  wonder  why  you  have 
wasted  such  precious  time  between  the  sheets. 
There  is  an  invigorating  freshness  in  the  air,  and 
the  birds  greet  you  with  the  full  sweetness  of  their 
early  morning  song.  The  hedges  that  border  the 
lanes  are  still  full  of  leaf  and  are  glistening  with 
dew.  Perhaps  you  may  be  too  young  to  notice 
these  things,  but  you  drink  in  the  beauty  of  them 
unconsciously,  and  they  have  an  exhilarating  effect 
on  the  spirit. 

A  six-mile  jog  lands  you  at  the  covert,  a  wood  of 
twenty  acres  ;  at  the  same  moment  hounds  arrive. 
The  sun  is  now  over  the  horizon,  and  no  delay  is 
made  in  putting  the  pack  into  covert.  You  will 
make  acquaintance  with  the  huntsman,  and  he 
may  perhaps  entrust  you  with  the  important  office 
of  watching  a  ride.^  Let  me  impress  on  you  here, 
when  you  undertake  this  task,  never  to  take  your 
eyes  off  the  ride  for  one  second,  for,  if  you  do,  at 

^  i.e.  a  path  through  the  wood. 


THE    HUNTING    FIELD  29 

that  moment  a  fox  will  surely  cross.  To-day  this 
responsibility  is  not  thrust  upon  you,  and  you  are 
at  liberty  to  follow  the  pack  into  covert. 

The  old  hounds  soon  disappear  in  the  under- 
growth, and  only  a  few  young  ones  are  left  with 
the  huntsman.  Now  keep  your  eyes  and  your  ears 
open,  remembering  that  your  sight  and  hearing, 
having  the  advantage  of  youth,  ought  to  be  as  good 
as  a  huntsman's  who  may  perhaps  be  the  wrong 
side  of  forty. 

Hark  !  old  Solomon  has  already  hit  the  drag 
of  the  dog-fox  which  he  left  when  he  went  to  his 
kennel  a  few  hours  ago.  Now  others  have  joined 
the  cry,  and  with  many  deviations  they  gradually 
work  up  to  the  bunch  of  dry  grass  which  father 
fox  had  chosen  as  a  resting-place  after  his  night's 
wandering. 

The  varmint  is  afoot,  and  the  uncertain,  inter- 
mittent cry  has  suddenly  swelled  to  a  full,  deep- 
throated  chorus.  Your  heart  beats  with  excite- 
ment, and  a  sudden  desire  is  awakened  to  follow 
those  entrancing  sounds.  You  scuttle  down  one 
ride  and  up  another,  reaching  a  hand-gate  on 
the  outside  of  the  covert  as  the  leading  hound 
emerges  into  the  open.  For  one  moment  you  for- 
get that  this  is  cub-hunting,  but  the  stern  realities 
of  the  situation  are  brought  to  your  mind  when 
the  whip  gallops  up  and  turns  hounds  back  into 
covert.  The  huntsman  then  blows  his  horn  and 
proceeds  to  rouse  the  litter  which  is  known  to 
be  here. 


30 


HORSES 


Except  for  the  huntsman's  exhortation  to  *^try 
for  him,"  all  is  now  silent  in  the  wood.  A  hound 
speaks,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  whole  pack  are 
in  full  cry  again.  Listen  and  you  will  hear  they 
have  divided,  showing  that  there  are  several  foxes 
afoot.  Now  sit  still  where  you  are  and  await 
further  developments.  A  portion  of  the  pack  are 
working  towards  you,  and  it  is  evident  they  are 
not  very  far  from  their  fox.  There  is  a  pattering 
on  the  leaves  in  the  brushwood  close  by,  and  the 
next  moment  a  fine  cub  hurries  over  the  ride. 
What  a  glorious  sight  !  and  how  your  throat 
itches  to  give  a  holloa  !  But  keep  silent,  for  hounds 
are  on  his  Hne,  and  you  don't  want  to  get  their 
heads  up.  See  them  now  come  dashing  across 
the  ride  and  disappear  in  the  thicket  beyond. 

Your  ears  must  now  tell  you  the  direction  they 
are  running,  and  your  judgment  should  inform 
you  which  ride  you  are  most  likely  to  see  them 
next.  There  !  you  were  just  in  time  to  see  the 
white-tipped  brush  flash  over  the  green  into  the 
thick  covert  beyond.  This  is  near  the  outside  of 
the  wood,  and  master  cub  must  either  face  the 
open  or  turn  back,  but  being  of  a  bold  disposition, 
he  decides  to  go  away.  On  this  occasion  his 
boldness  saves  him  further  molestation,  for  the 
whip  stops  the  hounds  and  turns  them  back  into 

covert. 

The  rest  of  the  pack  are  running  in  a  distant 
part  of  the  wood,  and  you  hurry  off  to  join  them. 
Four    cubs    and  a  brace  of   old  foxes  have    gone 


THE    HUNTING    FIELD  31 

away,  leaving  behind  the  weakest  of  the  Htter, 
and  hounds  are  giving  him  a  very  warm  time. 
Orders  have  gone  forth  to  the  whips  not  to  stop 
the  pack  now  if  a  cub  should  go  away,  but  this 
one  does  not  seem  at  all  inclined  to  try  his  luck 
in  the  open. 

The  ground  is  becoming  foiled,  and  only  a  few 
of  the  old  hounds  can  speak  to  the  line,  until  at 
last  the  music  ceases  altogether.  The  cub  has 
probably  lain  down,  and  we  must  now  refind  him. 
Take  a  ride  some  distance  away  from  the  hunts- 
man and  watch  it  closely.  You  know  the  cub  is 
somewhere  in  the  quarter  between  you  and  the 
huntsman. 

The  buzzing  of  a  fly  is  the  only  sound  that 
breaks  the  silence  in  your  immediate  neighbour- 
hood, and  were  it  not  for  an  occasional  faint 
twang  of  the  horn,  you  might  think  the  hunt 
had  left. 

The  frightened  twitter  of  a  blackbird  tells  of 
something  moving  at  last,  and  you  gaze  intently 
down  the  ride.  The  next  second  the  animal  you 
are  looking  for  is  standing  there  in  full  view  ;  you 
never  saw  him  come,  and  you  can  hardly  believe 
your  eyes.  He  has  his  mouth  open  and  tongue 
hanging  out  in  spite  of  the  few  minutes'  rest, 
whilst  with  head  slightly  on  one  side  he  is  im- 
movable as  a  statue,  listening  for  sounds  of  his 
enemies ;  then,  satisfied  they  are  some  distance 
away,  he  creeps  into  the  undergrowth. 

Now   you  may  give  your  lungs  a  chance   in  a 


32  HORSES 

holloa  that  will  reach  the  farthermost  point  of 
the  wood,  and  keep  on  until  some  of  the  pack  or 
the  huntsman  appear.  Your  voice  is  unfamiliar, 
but  it  has  a  genuine  ring  in  it,  and  the  hounds 
quickly  respond.  Now  turn  your  pony's  head  the 
way  the  fox  has  gone,  and  wave  your  hat  in  that 
direction.  Your  motions  are  rewarded  by  a  burst 
of  music,  and  the  hunt  is  started  again. 

*' Tally-ho!  gone-away  ! "  cries  the  whip  at  the 
corner  of  the  wood,  and  you  must  get  to  that 
point  as  quick  as  you  can.  You  are  smart  enough 
to  get  there  as  the  leading  hound  comes  out  of  the 
covert,  and  can  watch  the  remainder  of  the  pack 
as  they  strive  to  reach  him.  Give  them  a  second 
to  get  settled,  then  you  can  sit  down  and  ride  your 
hardest. 

In  spite  of  a  brilliant  September  sun  there  is 
a  scent  on  the  grass,  and  the  cub  is  not  far  in 
front.  You  have  marked  a  gap  in  the  first  fence, 
and  your  pony  flying  it  easily  lands  you  alongside 
of  the  pack.  The  next  fence  is  a  high  bullfinch, 
with  a  stiff  footstile  in  one  corner,  the  only  feasible 
place.  It  is  not  a  jump  you  would  select  for  choice, 
but  your  blood  is  up,  and  you  mean  to  stick  to 
hounds  if  possible.  You  have  got  a  good  start,  and 
must  try  to  keep  it.  The  timber,  though  strong,  is 
not  very  high,  and  is  really  no  higher  than  the 
hurdle  you  have  jumped  at  home.  Go  at  it,  and 
don't  hesitate. 

Your  pony  does  not  quite  like  the  look  of  that 
strong  top-rail,  and   is  not  over-confident   in   his 


THE    HUNTING   FIELD  33 

own  powers  of  jumping;  but  he  too  is  imbued 
with  the  spirit  of  the  chase,  and,  gaining  courage 
from  the  squeeze  of  his  young  rider's  legs,  he  goes 
boldly  at  it.  You  are  over,  and  alone  with  the 
pack.  This  is  a  moment  you  will  never  forget,  and 
you  are  on  the  road  to  become  a  first-class  man 
to  hounds. 

As  your  pony  lands  on  the  hard  footpath  beyond, 
you  hear  some  one  say,  ''Well  done  !"  and  looking 
round  you  find  it  is  a  horse-breaker  on  a  three-year- 
old.  He  was  on  the  outside  of  the  covert,  and 
slipping  round  quickly  was  in  time  to  see  you  dis- 
appear over  that  first  gap,  which  the  young  'un 
jumps  beautifully  and  is  anxious  for  more.  Jim 
Thompson  is,  however,  a  faded  light,  and  his  nerve 
has  gone.  At  one  time  a  superb  horseman,  for 
whom  no  fence  was  too  big;  whom  no  fall,  however 
bad,  could  daunt ;  but  a  taste  for  strong  liquors, 
acquired  in  youth  and  freely  indulged  in  in  mature 
age,  has  entirely  ruined  his  nerve.  Watch  him  now, 
and  it  may  be  a  warning  to  you  not  to  fall  into  his 
errors.  The  young  horse  has  seen  your  pony  jump 
the  stile,  and  is  very  keen  to  follow  the  lead.  See 
how  well  his  rider  holds  him  together,  and  keeps 
him  moving  with  hocks  well  under  him  in  a  collected 
stride.  The  generous  dram  of  spirit  poor  Jim  took 
before  leaving  home  has  begun  to  ooze  out,  and  the 
nearer  he  approaches  the  stile  the  stronger  it  ap- 
pears. The  young  horse  also  is  not  quite  sure  of 
his  jumping  powers,  and  hesitates  in  the  last  few 
strides,  wanting  encouragement  from  his  rider,  but 

C 


34  HORSES 

the  limp  and  shaking  legs  inspire  him  with  no  con- 
fidence. Another  few  strides  and  he  is  close  to  the 
timber  ;  then  suddenly  he  stops  short  and  refuses. 
Jim  gallops  off  home  to  deliver  a  half-spoilt  horse 
to  the  owner,  and  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the 
day  in  the  public-house,  dreaming  of  days  that  are 
past  and  runs  he  has  seen. 

Never  mind  Jim  now ;  hounds  are  running,  and 
you  are  some  fifty  yards  to  the  left  of  the  main 
body.  One  moment,  though,  for  a  word  of  caution. 
You  must  not  think  because  you  have  cleared  a 
fair-sized  bit  of  timber  that  your  pony  has  no 
limitations  in  that  direction.  Do  not  over-face 
him  or  tax  his  powers  beyond  their  capabilities, 
and  if  there  is  any  choice  always  select  the  smallest 
place. 

A  half-open  gate  lets  you  through  into  the 
next  field,  which  is  a  fallow,  in  preparation  for 
the  sowing  of  wheat.  The  freshly  turned  soil 
brings  the  pack  to  their  noses,  and  now  you  must 
stand  quite  still.  No  !  don't  turn  round  to  see  if 
any  one  is  coming  up,  but  keep  your  eyes  glued  on 
the  hounds  and  watch  what  they  are  doing.  Two 
very  promising  couple — all  of  one  litter — of  the 
young  entry  have  been  carrying  the  scent  thus 
far,  and  now  they  must  leave  it  to  their  elders  to 
put  them  right.  Swinging  themselves  forward  they 
fail  to  touch  the  line,  the  reason  being  that  the 
fox  has  turned  short  to  the  right  for  the  smoother 
headland  and  to  avoid  the  half-broken  clods.  Old 
Lavish,  who  had  been  left  behind  in  covert,  now 


THE    HUNTING   FIELD  35 

comes  up,  and  by  aid  of  an  excellent  nose,  as- 
sisted by  the  wisdom  of  age,  speedily  unravels 
the  mystery. 

At  this  check  you  had  feared  it  was  all  over,  and 
your  spirits  rise  again  when  you  see  the  pack  fly 
to  Lavishes  tuneful  note.  The  fence  ahead  appears 
a  very  simple  affair,  and  the  field  beyond  is  old 
seeds.  Your  experience  in  the  country — perhaps 
looking  for  blackberries — has  taught  you  that  the 
yellow  grass  and  briars  in  front  of  the  hedge  you 
are  now  riding  at  will  most  probably  conceal  a 
ditch.  This  knowledge  you  expect  to  be  shared 
by  the  pony,  and,  sticking  in  your  heels,  ride  gaily 
at  the  obstacle.  Crash  !  bump  !  The  ground  rises 
up  suddenly  and  hits  you  a  smack  on  the  head. 
For  the  fraction  of  a  second  you  are  dazed,  then 
jumping  to  your  feet  you  clutch  at  the  reins  and 
prepare  to  remount.  What  happened  ?  Only  a 
blind  ditch,  and  you  rode  at  it  rather  too  fast,  so 
that  when  the  pony  put  his  feet  in  the  ditch  he 
could  not  recover,  and  both  of  you  rolled  over  the 
fence  into  the  field  beyond.  Your  nose  is  bleeding 
a  little,  and  you  have  scratched  your  face,  whilst 
your  hat  is  smashed  out  of  shape — but  these  are 
mere  trifles.  Climb  on  the  pony  as  quick  as  you 
can,  for  the  pack  are  only  just  disappearing  through 
the  next  fence,  and  you  will  easily  catch  them 
up.  Experience  is  a  valuable  tutor,  and  this  little 
mishap  will  have  taught  you  the  necessity  of  riding 
slowly  at  a  fence  when  the  ditch  facing  you  is  con- 
cealed by  grass  or  tangled  briars. 


36  HORSES 

The  country  now  assumes  a  different  aspect,  for 
the  estate  we  are  crossing  is  in  the  owner's  hands, 
and  is  a  legacy  from  a  sequence  of  bad  tenants. 
A  year  or  two  ago  it  was  under  the  plough,  but 
now  a  thin  covering  of  wiry  twitch-grass  has  spread 
over  the  surface,  and,  as  far  as  hunting  is  con- 
cerned, is  not  a  bad  substitute  for  turf.  No  ditches 
guard  the  straggling,  ill-kempt  hedges,  which  have 
many  weak  places,  and  you  may  ride  at  them  with 
the  fullest  confidence. 

For  five  or  six  fields  hounds  run  fast  over  this 
sort  of  country,  and  you  are  just  able  to  keep  with 
them,  though  the  pony  is  fast  tiring,  and  his  heaving 
sides  tell  you  that  a  halt  will  soon  be  advisable. 
Make  the  most  of  your  precious  moments,  though 
you  will  only  realise  in  dreams  for  many  days  to 
come  the  period  of  divine  ecstasy  through  which 
you  have  passed.  There  is  a  limit  to  the  apprecia- 
tion of  any  pleasure,  and  the  cup  is  brimming  now, 
though  it  will  not  run  to  waste,  but  will  be 
absorbed  by  your  brain ;  and  you  will  live  again 
through  the  incidents  of  the  run. 

The  sun  is  gaining  power,  and  a  bare  stubble- 
field  brings  the  pack  to  their  noses.  Even  to  your 
inexperienced  eye  a  crisis  has  been  reached,  and 
a  little  human  intelligence  will  be  required  to 
assist  hounds  in  their  difficulty,  but  fortunately  at 
this  moment  the  huntsman  and  first  whip  appear. 

What  had  happened  to  them  ?  The  whip  had 
been  on  the  farther  side  of  the  wood  and  the  hunts- 
man had  taken  a  fall  in  galloping  down  a  boggy 


THE    HUNTING   FIELD  37 

ride,  his  horse  getting  away  from  him.  The  second 
whip,  who  had  holloaed  the  fox  from  the  covert, 
was  a  new  hand,  and  in  his  previous  place  had 
orders  never  to  ride  over  a  fence,  but  to  go  back 
for  any  hounds  that  were  missing.  Finding  that 
the  pack  were  two  couple  short,  he  went  back  into 
the  wood  to  find  them,  and  then  assisted  the  hunts- 
man to  catch  his  horse.  It  thus  happened  that 
you  and  the  horse-dealer  were  the  only  people  to 
get  away.  Two  or  three  early  rising  members  of 
the  hunt,  who  had  turned  up  at  the  meet  with  severe 
punctuality,  had  found  a  sunny  spot  on  the  up-wind 
side  of  the  wood,  where  they  passed  the  time  with 
cigarettes  and  conversation.  When  they  hear  of 
the  gallop  they  will  curse  the  huntsman  for  not 
blowing  his  horn  ;  but  for  the  present  we  will  leave 
them  in  happy  ignorance  of  hounds'  doings,  and 
return  to  the  check. 

The  huntsman  sees  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost, 
and,  grasping  the  situation  at  a  glance,  he  lifts  the 
pack  across  the  stubble-field.  Beneath  the  shadow 
of  the  high  hedge  the  ground  is  still  moist  from  the 
morning  dew,  and  hounds  soon  strike  the  smeuse 
where  the  fox  has  crept  through.  Another  stubble 
and  hounds  can  only  slowly  puzzle  out  the  line,  so 
that  there  is  every  chance  of  the  hunt  coming  to  a 
speedy  end. 

We  are  on  the  summit  of  some  rising  ground, 
and  the  country  before  us  shelves  away  to  a  little 
stream  below.  Your  eyes  are  young,  and  you 
should  scan  the  landscape  quickly  for  any  moving 


38  HORSES 

object.  There  !  look  !  what  was  that  dark  animal 
disappearing  through  the  hedge  two  fields  away  ? 
For  a  moment  you  hesitate,  and  then  the  brain 
confirms  the  eye's  first  impression.  You  burst 
out  with  ^'Yonder  he  goes!"  and  to  the  hunts- 
man's query  of  ^' Where?"  you  point  to  the  spot. 
Quick  as  thought  he  has  the  pack  at  his  heels  and 
gallops  to  the  place  you  indicated,  but  before  they 
reach  it  a  flood  of  melody  fills  the  air  with  joyous 
sound. 

You  were  right,  and  now  your  pony  has  gained 
his  second  wind ;  bustle  him  along  and  see  the  end. 
Crash  through  that  bullfinch,  and  you  find  yourself 
in  a  long  meadow  down  which  the  brooks  run. 
Hounds  fly  up  the  hedge-side,  stop  suddenly  and 
turn  back.  Old  Songster  makes  a  dive  into  the 
ditch  and  out  jumps  the  fox,  getting  a  twenty- 
yard  start  before  he  is  seen.  Tally-ho  !  the  pack 
have  viewed  him,  and  are  racing  for  his  brush. 
Across  the  level  meadow  old  hound  and  young  are 
straining  every  sinew. 

On  the  farther  side  of  the  brook  is  an  open 
earth,  which  may  mean  safety  to  the  fox,  and  to  us 
the  knell  of  all  our  hopes.  Will  they  do  it  ?  The 
excitement  is  intense.  They  are  gaining  on  him,  his 
stride  is  shortening,  and  now  that  young  Belvoir 
dog  is  not  a  yard  behind  his  brush.  Another  inch 
or  two,  a  snap,  a  snarl,  a  worry,  ^*  Whoo-hoop  ! " 
and  all  is  over. 

Slacken  your  pony's  girths,  put  the  reins  over  his 
head,  and  fasten  them  to  one  stirrup-iron,  then  turn 


TATVCK    ^A/iTH    THE   HUNTSMAN 


THE    HUNTING    FIELD  39 

him  loose  well  clear  of  the  pack,  and  watch  the  fox 
being  broken  up.  This  performance  over,  and  the 
huntsman  approaches  you  with  the  trophies  of  the 
chase  in  his  left  hand,  then  he  makes  a  pass  with 
the  right,  you  feel  something  wet  on  the  cheek,  and 
behold  you  are  "  blooded."  Gratefully  accepting 
both  mask  and  brush,  you  fasten  them  to  the  saddle 
and  ride  slowly  home. 

Before  you  retire,  however,  there  is  one  point 
you  want  explained,  and,  as  the  huntsman  in  this 
instance  is  unable  to  explain  it,  I  will  make  it 
clear  for  you.  You  noticed  that  the  fox  you 
holloaed  across  the  ride  was  not  the  same  hounds 
killed,  and  the  huntsman  has  told  you  it  was  the 
old  vixen,  whose  head  you  are  carrying  away. 
This  is  what  happened.  A  tired  cub  went  away, 
but  fortunately  for  him  he  found  his  mother  lurk- 
ing in  a  hedgerow  some  two  fields  away  from 
the  covert,  when,  acting  on  the  maternal  advice,  he 
promptly  laid  down  and  left  her  to  take  his  place. 
The  poor  old  lady  had  been  hovering  about  the 
neighbourhood  in  her  anxiety  for  her  family  and 
hoping  for  an  opportunity  of  this  kind,  but  she  had 
been  considerably  hustled  before  leaving  the  covert, 
and  her  strength  was  not  equal  to  the  task  of 
getting  away  from  hounds,  so  that  she  sacrificed 
her  life  for  that  of  her  offspring. 

Arriving  at  the  stable-yard,  it  is  a  proud  moment 
for  you  when  John  the  stud-groom,  who  taught  you 
riding,  comes  out  and  sees  the  head  dangling  from 
the  saddle.     Of   course  he  takes  a  great  interest 


40  HORSES 

in  Master  George,  and,  like  all  the  better  class  of 
grooms,  is  a  very  keen  sportsman.  You  give  him 
every  detail  and  incident  of  the  morning's  sport, 
living  it  all  over  again  in  pouring  out  the  story  to 
sympathetic  ears. 

You  may  be  pardoned  for  relating  your  prowess 
in  the  field  to  the  family  circle,  but  I  need  hardly 
tell  you  that  a  modest  reticence  with  regard  to  these 
matters  is  more  becoming  when  discussing  it  with 
friends.  Not  only  must  you  never  refer  to  your  own 
personal  deeds,  but  you  must  not  allow  yourself  to 
imagine  that  your  performance  was  in  any  way  out 
of  the  common  or  meritorious.  The  next  time  you 
go  hunting  you  will  probably  do  something  foolish, 
and  never  see  hounds  after  they  leave  the  covert. 
Conceit  about  anything  is  certain  to  lead  sooner 
or  later  to  a  downfall,  but  in  riding  to  hounds  it 
is  a  sure  pathway  to  a  swift  and  humiliating 
retribution. 


CHAPTER   III 


THE   CHOICE   OF   A    HORSE  I    AND    ITS    HANDLING 


The  choosing  of  a  pony  is  generally  not  left  to 
the  boy,  but,  as  he  will  some  day  have  to  buy  his 
own  horses,  it  will  be  as  well  for  him  to  gather 
knowledge  on  the  subject  before  that  time  arrives. 
Let  us,  however,  first  of  all  consider  the  needs  of 
the  boy  who  is  learning  to  ride,  and  imagine  we  are 
addressing  a  parent  who  has  not  previously  had 
much  experience  in  horse-flesh. 

In  a  boy's  first  pony,  the  one  essential  is  perfect 
quietness,  and  to  make  sure  of  this  one  ought  not 


41 


42  HORSES 

to  buy  too  young  an  animal.  Never  mind  how 
old  the  pony  is,  if  he  is  sure-footed  and  does  not 
stumble.  A  "slug"  is  to  be  preferred  to  a  fiery 
animal,  as  the  boy  gains  confidence  when  he  can 
kick  his  pony  in  the  ribs,  and  controlling  a  too 
willing  animal  by  the  bridle  is  as  yet  to  him  an 
unknown  art. 

The  absence  of  every  vice  is  imperative,  such  as 
kicking,  shying,  rearing,  or  bucking. 

Good  shoulders  are  necessary,  and  are  as  impor- 
tant in  a  boy's  first  pony  as  a  hunter.  The  reason 
for  this  is  that  a  good-shouldered,  well-behaved 
pony  is  easy  and  pleasant  to  ride,  so  that  a  be- 
ginner soon  learns  to  enjoy  the  motion  ;  whereas 
a  heavy-shouldered  brute,  that  is  uncomfortable 
even  for  an  expert  rider,  would  shake  out  any 
desire  he  had  to  become  a  proficient  horseman. 
The  smaller  the  pony  the  better,  if  it  is  strong 
enough  to  carry  the  weight  required  ;  and  it  should 
never  be  too  big  for  the  boy  to  mount  easily  by 
himself.  The  beginner's  first  idea  when  he  gets 
on  to  the  back  of  horse  or  pony  is  that  he  must 
fall  off,  and,  the  nearer  he  is  to  the  ground,  the  less 
terrible  will  this  prospect  appear. 

The  boy  who  thinks  nothing  of  a  fall  on  the  ice, 
or  being  knocked  over  at  football  with  half-a-dozen 
others  on  top  of  him,  will  tremble  at  the  idea  of 
tumbling  a  few  feet  from  a  saddle.  Let  him  over- 
come this  feeling  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  he  will 
soon  gain  that  confidence  in  himself  without  which 
there  is  no  pleasure  in  riding. 


THE   CHOICE   OF   A    HORSE  43 

A  boy's  pony  should  be  narrow  between  the 
rider's  legs,  and  a  saddle  with  no  stuffing  in  the 
flaps  should  be  used.  This  is  most  important,  as 
a  little  fellow  with  short  legs,  in  trying  to  stretch 
across  a  wide-barrelled  pony,  has  his  seat  spoilt,  and 
perhaps  the  proper  growth  of  his  limbs  seriously 
interfered  with. 

If  a  parent  has  not  the  requisite  knowledge  of 
horse-flesh,  he  had  better  employ  a  dealer  to  find 
the  animal  he  wants  ;  but  it  very  often  happens  that 
a  friend  has  a  pony  to  part  with  which  his  boy  has 
outgrown.  The  advantage  of  going  to  a  respect- 
able dealer  is  that  you  can  return  the  pony  if  it 
does  not  suit,  and  I  think  it  is  the  most  satisfactory 
plan.  Make  a  very  careful  trial  before  you  decide 
to  keep,  and  it  is  as  well  not  to  make  up  your 
mind  until  you  have  had  the  pony  two  or  three 
days  in  the  stable. 

I  do  not  think  that  there  is  sufficient  attention 
given  to  breaking  in  small  ponies,  and  people  do  not 
appreciate  the  importance  of  having  them  properly 
trained  for  beginners.  Fathers  and  mothers  would 
be  saved  much  painful  anxiety  if  they  could  have 
perfect  confidence  in  their  youngsters'  mounts.  A 
pony  of  good  disposition  is  very  easily  taught,  and 
there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  training  it  not  to 
kick,  to  stand  still  if  the  boy  falls  off,  or  to  behave 
well  under  any  circumstance  that  may  arise.  In 
these  days  no  pony  can  be  considered  fit  for  a 
boy  until  it  has  become  thoroughly  accustomed  to 
motor-cars  and  steam-rollers. 


44  HORSES 

The  day  will  come  when  the  boy  will  have  to 
choose  a  horse  for  himself,  and  it  is  as  well  he 
should  train  his  eye  to  the  general  conformation 
of  the  animal.  Any  book  on  the  horse  will  instruct 
him,  with  the  help  of  a  diagram,  in  the  list  of 
names  by  which  different  parts  of  the  body  are 
known,  and  a  superficial  study  in  anatomy  will  do 
him  no  harm.  It  is,  however,  only  by  a  practical 
experience  with  the  living  animal  that  he  can  gain 
the  requisite  information  which  will  be  of  use  in 
gauging  its  capabilities. 

There  is  one  rule  I  would  have  you  remember, 
which  is — never  buy  a  horse  you  do  not  like. 
This  at  the  first  glance  appears  to  be  a  proceeding 
which  no  one  is  likely  to  be  guilty  of,  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact  it  is  what  many  of  us  are  continu- 
ally doing,  and  being  sorry  for  afterwards.  The 
persuasive  tongue  of  the  seller  draws  our  attention 
to  the  good  points,  and  the  impression  which  we 
had  formed  gradually  fades  away,  only  to  be  re- 
membered when  the  new  purchase  is  in  our  stable. 
You  may  occasionally  miss  a  very  good  horse  by 
my  rule,  but  I  think  in  the  long  run  you  will  find 
it  a  good  rule  to  bear  in  mind. 

If  I  had  to  choose  a  horse  from  one  point  only  I 
would  select  his  head,  and  the  novice  is  quite  as 
competent  to  form  a  judgment  in  this  particular 
as  the  most  expert  horse-dealer.  Do  not  allow 
rules  which  you  may  have  heard  as  to  the  shape  of 
a  head,  or  any  ideas  of  your  own,  to  guide  you,  but 
rely  solely  on  the  intuition  which  the  expression 


THE   CHOICE   OF   A    HORSE  45 

conveys  to  your  mind.  A  horse's  character  is 
plainly  written  in  the  expression  of  his  face,  and, 
if  you  have  the  perception  to  read  it  rightly,  you 
will  never  go  far  wrong. 

People  may  laugh  and  tell  you  that  it  is  not 
customary  to  ride  on  a  horse's  head,  and  make 
humorous  remarks ;  but  you  can  ask  them  to  point 
out  any  animal  which  has  borne  a  great  character, 
either  in  the  hunting  field  or  on  the  race-course, 
that  has  had  a  bad  expression. 

Occasionally  a  horse  of  very  great  courage  may 
have  a  leavening  of  obstinacy  in  his  character 
which  may  lead  him  into  bad  habits  if  not  properly 
treated.  A  horse  is  a  servant,  and  must  understand 
it  is  his  duty  to  obey  ;  but  no  master  with  any 
sense  would  expect  to  get  the  best  results  from  a 
servant  by  ill-usage.  Your  object  should  be  not 
to  break  the  spirit  of  a  horse,  but  to  tame  and  train 
it  for  your  own  advantage.  This  is,  however, 
touching  on  a  subject  which  we  will  refer  to  later 
on,  and  we  will  now  consider  some  other  points 
in  making  a  purchase. 

A  good  shoulder  is,  I  think,  the  most  important 
feature  in  a  horse's  conformation,  both  for  the 
comfort  of  the  rider  and  for  the  saving  to  the 
animal's  limbs.  No  one  would  ever  dream  of 
buying  a  hack  with  bad  shoulders,  and  the  man 
who  knowingly  buys  a  hunter  afflicted  in  that 
way  is  not  far  removed  from  a  suicide.  There 
are,  however,  many  degrees  between  the  perfect 
shoulder    and    the    very    bad,   but    unfortunately 


46  HORSES 

there  is  no  method  of  ascertaining  the  point 
where  they  graduate  from  moderately  good  into 
absolutely  unsafe. 

When  buying  a  horse  never  take  any  one's 
opinion  about  shoulders,  and  do  not  trust  to  the 
judgment  of  your  eye.  The  only  sound  test  is 
to  get  on  his  back,  jump  a  fence,  and  gallop 
down  hill.  Some  horses  have  apparently  beauti- 
ful shoulders  to  look  at,  but  cannot  use  them,  and 
this  you  will  speedily  find  out  when  you  gallop 
down  a  grass  field. 

Several  years  ago  I  bought  a  horse  which  I 
hoped  would  carry  me  hunting  and  win  me  a 
race  at  the  end  of  the  season.  I  remember  many 
good  judges  remarking  on  his  beautiful  shoulders, 
and  on  the  strength  of  their  opinions  I  rode  him 
across  Leicestershire  with  the  utmost  confidence. 
I  began  to  think  this  confidence  was  rather  mis- 
placed  after  he  had  given  me  about  half-a-dozen 
crushing  bad  falls,  and  that  his  shoulders  were 
not  quite  as  perfect  as  they  looked.  He  was  a 
very  clever  horse,  and  would  not  come  down  if 
he  could  help  it,  but  when  he  did  fall  I  never 
knew  what  had  happened  for  a  few  seconds.  I 
invariably  found  myself  facing  the  fence  I  had 
come  over,  and  generally  with  a  collar-stud  burst, 
two  signs  which  I  look  upon  as  indicating  a  bad 
kind  of  spill. 

After  a  series  of  tumbles  out  hunting  and  be- 
tween the  flags  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
horse  did  not  suit  me,  and  I  therefore  sold  him 


THE   CHOICE   OF   A    HORSE  47 

to  go  in  harness  ;  but  before  parting  with  him  I 
asked  a  friend  who  had  considerable  experience 
to  get  on  his  back.  That  friend  gave  his  opinion 
before  he  had  been  in  the  saddle  five  minutes, 
and  it  was — '*  He  is  the  worst  shouldered  brute 
I  ever  rode,  and  I  would  not  hunt  him  for  a 
hundred  pounds."  This  was  a  horse  that  men 
who  had  not  ridden  spoke  of  as  having  ^'beautiful 
shoulders." 

The  horse  with  a  perfect  shoulder  and  a  natural 
balance  is  hard  to  find,  but  it  is  what  you  should 
always  aim  at  getting  in  your  search  for  a  hunter. 
When  you  are  fortunate  enough  to  secure  this 
luxury,  make  the  most  of  him  and  don't  part  if 
you  can  afford  to  keep. 

The  leg  from  the  knee  to  the  fetlock  joint 
should  be  short  and  flat,  with  big  strong  joints. 
Pasterns  that  are  extra  long  show  a  weakness, 
but  the  other  extreme  is  as  bad,  because  pasterns 
are  the  natural  springs  to  lessen  the  jar  of  jump- 
ing, and  a  horse  with  very  short  ones  is  certain, 
sooner  or  later,  to  become  injured  in  legs  or  feet. 
A  man  who  jumps  any  height  will  be  considerably 
shaken  if  he  lands  on  his  heels,  but  he  will  save 
nearly  all  jar  by  letting  his  toes  first  touch  the 
ground.  The  straight  and  very  short  pastern  joint 
of  a  horse  gives  the  same  result  as  a  man  landing 
on  his  heels. 

Do  not  buy  a  horse  that  is  light  of  bone  :  I 
mean  by  this  one  that  has  not  bone  in  propor- 
tion to  the  rest  of  his  body.    Whether  the  animal 


48  HORSES 

is  capable  or  not  of  carrying  your  weight  is  a 
question  you  must  decide  for  yourself,  but  his 
limbs  must  first  of  all  be  strong  enough  to  carry 
his  own  carcase.  I  think  you  will  generally  find 
that  a  seller  has  a  greater  opinion  of  his  horse's 
weight-carrying  abilities  than  any  one  else. 

A  hunter  must  have  a  large  proportion  of 
thoroughbred  blood,  and  I  would  always  prefer 
a  clean-bred  one  if  he  had  the  necessary  sub- 
stance to  carry  me.  The  advantage  of  riding 
a  fast  horse  to  hounds  is  that  you  very  seldom 
have  to  gallops  and  he  is  only  cantering  when  the 
hairy-heeled  sort  are  going  at  their  best  pace.  In 
hunting,  however  well  you  know  the  country, 
you  are  always  coming  upon  the  unexpected,  and 
when  a  horse  is  cantering  his  limbs  are  under 
control,  so  that  he  can  change  a  leg  or  put  in 
an  extra  stride  to  avoid  a  difficulty  at  the  last 
moment. 

In  steeplechasing  your  object  is  to  get  over  the 
fences  as  quickly  as  you  can,  and  be  first  past 
the  winning  -  post ;  but  please  remember  that 
hunting  is  a  sport  and  not  a  race.  Cast  out  the 
spirit  of  emulation,  never  mind  what  your  friends 
are  doing,  and  think  only  of  hounds.  Your  aim 
and  object  is  to  be  as  near  the  pack  as  possible 
without  over-riding  them,  and  then  to  see  the 
fox  killed. 

There  are  occasions  out  hunting,  when  you  get 
a  bad  start  or  are  otherwise  in  a  hurry  to  make  up 
lost  ground,  on  which  you  must  take  chances  and 


THE   CHOICE    OF   A    HORSE  49 

gallop  over  a  fence  ;  but  the  proper  pace  to  ride 
at  any  obstacle^  be  it  timber  or  hedge,  is  a  canter. 
The  horse  at  that  gait  is  in  the  position  to  put 
forth  his  greatest  power  for  jumping,  and  being 
collected  can  recover  his  balance  if  he  happens 
to  make  a  mistake.  A  horse,  when  fully  extended 
in  galloping,  has  no  reserve  power  left  to  meet 
any  new  contingency  which  may  arise  at  the  last 
moment. 

I  have  remarked  before,  steeplechasing  and 
hunting  are  two  entirely  different  things.  Hunt 
meetings  are  generally  pleasant  social  gatherings, 
but  as  a  rule  they  are  farcical  imitations  of  a  race, 
and  are  an  insult  to  hunters.  There  is  a  great 
deal  of  nonsense  talked  about  a  ^'  natural  country," 
and  making  the  fences  bigger  to  enable  the  genuine 
hunters  to  have  a  chance,  but  you  will  find  that 
the  confidential  animal  which  has  never  made 
a  mistake  in  the  hunting-field,  usually  comes  to 
grief  at  an  obstacle  that  the  chaser  —  who  has 
never  seen  hounds — sails  easily  over. 

The  chaser  must  gallop  over  his  fences  and  the 
hunter  ought  not,  so  that  when  the  latter  is  brought 
out  between  the  flags,  you  are  asking  him  to  do 
something  which  is  entirely  opposed  to  his  previous 
education.  I  admit  that  many  horses  which  have 
won  races  make  excellent  hunters,  but  they  must 
have  some  further  training  before  they  become  safe 
mounts  with  hounds. 

Any  horse  that  is  fast  enough  and  has  sufficient 
strength    to    carry   weight,    can    be   made    into    a 

D 


50  HORSES 

steeplechaser,  but  he  must  be  properly  "  schooled." 
When  a  horse  has  once  learnt  to  rise  at  a  fence 
and  the  right  moment  to  take  off,  the  act  of  jump- 
ing is  very  little  more  exertion  than  galloping. 

The  moral  of  all  this  is,  when  you  go  a-hunting 
don't  imagine  you  are  steeplechasing,  and  when 
you  are  performing  between  the  flags,  don't  think 
you  are  riding  to  hounds.  In  a  run,  if  you  want 
to  make  up  lost  ground,  go  as  fast  as  you  like 
between  the  fences,  but  take  a  pull  before  you 
have  to  jump. 

This  discussion  has  rather  led  us  away  from  our 
subject,  which  was  on  thoroughbreds  as  hunters, 
but  they  have  one  disadvantage  ;  and  that  is,  being 
generally  thin-skinned,  they  do  not  like  facing  a 
thorny  place  which  they  have  to  go  through.  In 
spite  of  this  drawback  my  advice  is,  get  all  the 
"blood"  you  can.  Of  course,  in  countries  where 
plough  predominates  you  will  not  require  quite 
as  much  breeding,  and  then  again  the  question  of 
your  weight  must  be  considered. 

I  am  afraid,  if  my  reader  has  accompanied 
me  thus  far,  he  wall  be  getting  rather  tired  of 
the  purchase  of  horses  which  he  may  not  have 
to  make  for  several  years,  but  I  want  to  get  the 
right  theories  into  his  head,  so  that  he  may  follow 
them  up  by  his  own  observation. 

We  will  just  run  through  a  catalogue  of  a  horse's 
good  points  before  we  close  the  subject.  Let  him 
be  deep  through  the  heart,  with  ribs  that  swell 
and   bilge   behind   the  girths ;    then  he  is  certain 


THE    CHOICE    OF   A    HORSE  51 

to  be  a  good  stayer.  A  strong  back  and  loins 
will  carry  weight.  Now  stand  directly  behind 
him,  when,  unless  the  muscles  of  the  thighs  and 
quarters  impress  you  with  strength,  you  may  be 
sure  that  jumping  with  a  weight  on  his  back  will 
be  a  task  beyond  his  power.  Carry  your  eye  lower 
down,  see  that  the  second  thighs  are  full,  and  then 
that  the  hock  is  clean  and  flat.  Big  bone  below 
the  hock  is  a  very  important  point  in  a  hunter, 
and  never  buy  one  with  small  fetlock  joints.  The 
imperfections  of  the  foot  may  sometimes  be  for- 
given, as  we  generally  hunt  on  soft  ground,  but, 
when  the  sole  of  the  foot  is  flat  and  nearly  level 
with  the  frog,  you  will  be  wise  not  to  purchase. 

Unless,  however,  you  are  an  expert  you  will  be 
wise  to  leave  all  questions  of  soundness  to  your 
veterinary  surgeon  and  content  yourself  with  select- 
ing an  animal  that  is  built  on  the  lines  you  think 
best.  If  your  purse  is  not  well  filled  you  must  try 
your  luck  at  auction  and  hope  to  pick  up  a  bargain  ; 
but  unless  you  are  very  careful,  you  will  probably 
be  landed  with  an  old  useless  brute.  With  a 
substantial  balance  at  the  bank,  the  best  plan 
is  to  go  to  a  good  dealer,  tell  him  exactly  what 
you  want,  and  ask  him  to  show  you  a  certain 
number  of  animals  that  he  can  recommend  ;  then 
make  your  own  choice  after  having  a  ride.  If 
you  see  one  you  do  not  like,  give  no  reason  for 
not  taking  it ;  just  say  nothing  and  pass  on  to  the 
next. 

All  the  horses  in  a  dealer's  stable   are  for  sale, 


52  HORSES 

and  it  is  his  business  to  sell  them  whenever  he 
gets  the  chance,  but  no  good  man  will  "  stick  "  you 
with  an  animal,  if  you  say  at  the  outset  exactly 
what  you  require  and  take  it  on  his  recommenda- 
tion. If,  however,  you  think  yourself  as  clever 
as  the  dealer  and  pit  your  skill  against  his,  you 
must  not  squeal  if  you  eventually  get  the  worst 
of  the  bargain.  My  experience  of  horse-dealers 
is  that  they  are  quite  as  straight  as  dealers  in  any 
other  article,  but  I  would  have  you  beware  of  the 
grentleman  horse-dealer. 

o 

Our  old  friend  Jorrocks  quotes,  ^'Who  should 
counsel  a  man  on  the  choice  of  a  wife  or  a  horse  ?  " 
but  if  you  take  my  counsel  you  will  choose  both 
those  articles  for  yourself. 

A  small  boy  w^ould  not  often  be  asked  to  handle 
or  break  in  a  young  horse,  but  when  once  he  has 
learnt  to  ride,  it  is  a  task  he  is  quite  as  capable  of 
doing  as  a  man.  You  may  have  heard  of  the 
rough  and  ready  methods  employed  out  in  the 
west  of  America,  but  if  you  had  much  experience 
with  the  horses  which  are  thus  broken,  you  would 
see  the  result  is  not  often  satisfactory.  Of  course 
out  West  the  time  cannot  be  spared  to  do  any 
preliminary  handling,  so  that  the  animal  that  is 
wild  one  day  is  saddled  and  ridden  the  next.  Some 
horses  require  very  little  breaking  and  are  willing 
slaves  from  the  start,  but  the  average  animal  exacts 
all  the  time  and  patience  a  man  can  give  if  you 
do  not  wish  him  to  develop  unpleasant  habits  later 


HANDLING   YOUR    HORSE  53 

on.  Like  everything  else,  the  art  of  taming  horses 
is  governed  by  common  sense,  and  if  you  reason 
the  matter  out  you  will  see  for  yourself  what  is  the 
best  thing  to  do. 

First  of  all  you  have  to  overcome  the  animal's 
natural  fear  of  man  and  then  to  give  it  conlidence. 
Afterwards  you  must  make  it  understand  that  you 
are  the  master  and  that,  however  headstrong  at 
first,  it  must  eventually  bend  to  your  will.  Abso- 
lute quietness  is  of  course  essential  in  the  handling 
of  young  horses,  and  a  good  motto  for  those  who 
have  any  animals  under  their  control  is,  ^'  Be  gentle, 
but  be  firm." 

We  are  all  rather  prone  to  take  it  for  granted  that, 
because  animals  are  denied  the  power  of  speech, 
it  is  useless  to  employ  the  human  language  in  con- 
veying any  impression  to  them,  but  this  is  a  great 
mistake,  and  one  that  we  see  committed  in  the 
kennel  as  well  as  in  the  stable.  You  have  only 
to  watch  horses  doing  shunting  work  on  railways, 
or  even  the  slaves  in  the  plough,  to  see  that  words 
can  easily  be  made  to  convey  their  proper  mean- 
ings. The  hearing  of  a  horse  is  more  sensitive 
than  that  of  a  man,  and  there  is  therefore  no 
reason  why  horses  should  not  distinguish  sounds. 
They  cannot  be  expected  to  learn  the  meaning  of 
every  word  in  the  English  language  or  to  under- 
stand a  long  sentence,  but  they  have  quite  sufficient 
intelligence  to  know  what  is  required  of  them  when 
certain  words  are  used. 

The  average  horseman  seems  to  think  the  only 


54  HORSES 

words  that  can  be  understood  by  a  horse  are 
^'Whoa!"  and  ^^  Come  up!"  and  he  uses  these 
to  attain  a  variety  of  ends,  so  that  it  is  no  wonder 
the  poor  animal  gets  confused. 

The  general  idea  of  ''Whoa  !"  is  that  it  is  an  order 
to  stop  or  come  to  a  halt;  and  yet  people  are 
continually  using  it  when  the  words  ''  Steady  ! "  or 
''Gently  !"  would  be  more  applicable.  If  you  wish 
to  be  successful  with  horses  every  word  you  use 
to  them  should  have  its  distinct  meaning,  and  that 
meaning  should  never  be  varied. 

Although  we  can  make  horses  understand  in 
time  what  we  require  them  to  do  when  we  use 
certain  words,  we  ought  not  to  blame  their  intelli- 
gence because  they  appear  slow  in  taking  these  in, 
as  sounds  made  by  the  human  voice  are  unnatural 
to  equine  ears.  With  all  our  superior  brain  power, 
no  one  has  yet  discovered  the  meaning  of  one 
word  in  any  animal's  language,  the  reason  being 
that  our  ears  are  not  sufficiently  quick  to  dis- 
tinguish the  difference  in  sounds.^ 

In  my  experience  I  have  found  that  the  in- 
flexions of  the  human  voice  are  more  readily 
appreciated  by  animals  than  particular  words.  By 
this  I  mean  they  know  at  once  if  you  talk  to  them 
in  harsh  or  scolding  tones,  and  equally  understand 
when  you  speak  kindly.    There  are  some  men  who 

^  The  more  I  watch  wild  birds,  especially  at  the  breeding  season, 
the  more  I  incline  to  a  belief  that  some  species,  small  and  large,  have 
a  considerable  language  of  their  own,  and  that  words  in  bird  land 
sometimes  vary  in  meaning  according  to  the  manner  and  circumstances 
in  which  they  are  uttered. — Ed. 


HANDLING   YOUR    HORSE  55 

have  no  intention  of  being  rough  or  unkind,  but 
they  happen  to  have  harsh  and  discordant  voices 
that  grate  on  a  sensitive  ear.  These  people  are 
seldom  successful  or  popular  with  animals,  and 
should  never  attempt  the  breaking-in  of  young 
horses. 

Some  grooms  get  into  a  very  objectionable  habit 
of  shouting  at  their  charges  for  no  reason  at  all, 
and  the  result  is  the  whole  stable  become  nervous. 
It  is  unnecessary  to  raise  the  voice  above  a  whisper  ; 
as  I  have  already  said,  a  horse's  hearing  is  very 
quick.  If  you  were  to  shout  in  angry  tones  at  a 
servant  in  your  employ,  you  would  be  aiming  a 
blow  at  his  nerves,  even  though  the  words  used 
were  harmless,  but  if  that  servant,  or,  let  us  say, 
a  delicate  woman,  happened  to  be  afraid  of  you, 
the  nervous  system  would  receive  such  a  distinct 
impression  that  your  voice  would  always  afterwards 
give  a  severe  shock  when  raised  above  its  ordinary 
pitch.  If  the  voice  has  this  effect  on  a  human 
being,  how  much  more  will  it  jar  on  the  sensitive 
hearing  of  a  horse  ? 

I  have  dwelt  rather  long  on  this  subject  because 
I  consider  it  one  of  great  importance  to  horse- 
owners,  and  as  you  are  young  it  is  easy  for  you  to 
begin  on  the  right  lines.  However,  do  not  accept 
my  conclusions  as  correct  without  first  reasoning 
the  matter  out  for  yourself  and  forming  your  own 
opinions  on  the  subject. 

Grooms  are  a  very  conservative  body,  and  do  not 
even  deserve  the  name  of  ^^  progressive/'  which  is, 


56  HORSES 

I  believe,  the  title  adopted  by  Tories  with  Liberal 
ideas.  There  has  been  very  little  change  in  English 
stable  management  for  the  last  hundred  years,  and 
any  alteration  that  has  been  made  has  always  had 
its  inception  from  outside  sources.  The  result  is 
that  we  find  Americans  far  ahead  of  us  in  their 
treatment  of  horses.  At  least  that  is  my  opinion, 
my  view  being  that  their  methods  are  more  humane 
and  more  sensible.  Across  the  Atlantic  the  voice 
plays  a  very  considerable  part  in  the  working  and 
management  of  horses. 

American  trainers  who  have  come  to  England  have 
been  repeatedly  successful  in  making  animals  quiet 
that  in  other  hands  had  been  unmanageable,  both 
in  the  stable  and  on  the  racecourse.  The  English 
Vainer  and  his  satellites  employ  methods  because 
they  are  hallowed  by  age,  whilst  the  American  is 
not  afraid  of  making  any  new  departure  if  it 
appears  to  him  to  be  dictated  by  common  sense. 
That  is  why  I  say  to  you,  reason  things  out  for 
yourself,  and  use  your  common  sense.  You  may 
make  mistakes,  and  get  laughed  at  for  departing 
from  the  beaten  track,  but  a  little  laughter  will  not 
hurt  you,  and  you  will  soon  find  out  when  you  are 
wrong.  At  the  same  time  it  is  just  as  well  to  make 
use  of  other  people's  experience  in  forming  your 
own  judgment,  and  my  idea  in  writing  this  book  is 
not  to  give  you  a  complete  manual  of  directions, 
but  to  give  you  hints,  and  then  incite  you  to  think 
for  yourself. 

The  man  who  wants  to  control  horses  must  first 


HANDLING   YOUR   HORSE  57 

of  all  learn  to  control  his  own  temper.  Now  I 
imagine  we  all  or  most  of  us  have  a  temper  of  some 
sort,  and  there  are  very  few  of  us  who  have  not 
allowed  that  demon  to  get  the  upper  hand  at  some 
period  of  our  lives.  To  lose  control  of  one's  temper 
is  a  sign  of  weakness,  and,  like  all  other  weaknesses, 
can  be  overcome  by  force  of  will.  It  is  bad  enough 
to  lose  one's  temper  with  a  fellow-creature,  but  to 
lose  it  with  dumb  animals  and  inanimate  objects 
indicates  a  mind  that  has  lost  its  will  power,  and  is 
swayed  by  passion.  If  the  heat  within  you  must 
find  vent  in  an  ebullition  of  temper,  pick  out  a  boy 
bigger  and  stronger  than  yourself,  and  on  him  pour 
out  your  pent-up  wrath.  When  you  have  expended 
your  energy  in  trying  to  hit  him  and  he  has  given 
you  a  good  pommelling,  you  will  realise  that  a 
temper  is  liable  to  get  you  into  trouble  if  you 
allow  it  to  become  your  master. 

Horses  are  very  trying,  I  admit,  sometimes,  and 
it  is  much  easier  to  sit  here  laying  down  rules  about 
keeping  one's  temper  than  to  do  it  in  reality.  I  am 
sorry  to  say  I  have  very  often  lost  my  temper  with 
a  horse  for  refusing  a  fence,  but  have  always 
felt  sorry  for  it  afterwards,  and,  thinking  it  over  in 
cold  blood,  realised  I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself. 

The  old  hunter  you  have  ridden  several  seasons 
knows  your  peculiarities  better  than  you  do  yourself, 
and  will  forgive  an  outburst  of  temper,  because  he 
is  aware  from  previous  experience  that  you  will  be 
kind  again  when  the  fit  has  passed.  I  would,  how- 
ever, have  you  remember  that  we  gain  our  power 


58  HORSES 

over  horses  entirely  by  the  superiority  of  mind 
over  brute  strength,  and  that  a  loss  of  temper  is 
an  exhibition  of  weakness  which  brings  us  down 
to  their  level. 

Whatever  you  may  do  with  older  horses,  you 
must  never  allow  yourself  to  get  irritated  or  angry 
with  young  ones  under  any  circumstances,  and  if 
you  have  not  sufficient  control  over  your  temper, 
you  had  better  leave  the  task  to  others. 

The  natural  instinct  of  a  horse  is  to  fear  man, 
and  that  is  one  of  the  first  things  you  have  to  over- 
come. Most  of  those  disconcerting  tricks  to  which 
young  horses  are  liable  are  the  outcome  of  fear, 
and  they  really  become  vices  by  improper  handling. 

The  qualities  that  go  to  make  a  perfect  horse- 
breaker  are  useful  in  every  phase  of  life.  He  must 
be  cool ;  his  nerves  and  temper  must  be  under 
absolute  control ;  there  must  be  no  vacillation  or 
indecision  in  his  composition,  and  he  must  not 
know  fear.  Lastly,  he  should  be  rigidly  firm, 
unvaryingly  kind,  and  always  patient.  This  may 
sound  to  you  rather  an  alarming  catalogue  of 
virtues,  but  if  your  health  and  nerves  are  good, 
all  the  rest  is  merely  a  question  of  will. 

There  are  a  great  many  methods  of  handling 
young  horses,  and  several  books  have  been  written 
on  the  subject,  but  the  most  practical  I  have  come 
across  is  one  by  Captain  Hayes.  This  work  I  will 
recommend  to  you  if  it  is  your  intention  to  tame  the 
unbroken  colt,  but  I  have  not  space  here  to  go  fully 
into  the  matter. 


HANDLING   YOUR    HORSE  59 

When  you  have  made  your  young  horse 
thoroughly  familiar  with  the  things  he  must  come 
in  contact  with,  and  he  is  quiet  to  ride,  you  will 
be  anxious  to  give  him  his  first  lesson  in  jumping. 
In  this  proceeding  you  must  expend  as  much  time 
and  patience  as  you  gave  to  the  preliminary  hand- 
ling. "VVhyte-Melville  says  :  '^  Do  not  forget,  how- 
ever, that  education  should  be  gradual  as  moonrise, 
perceptible,  not  in  progress,  but  result."  In  other 
words,  you  must  not  attempt  to  teach  higher 
mathematics  until  your  pupil  has  mastered  simple 
arithmetic.  Whyte- Melville's  ''Riding  Recollec- 
tions "  is  a  book  every  young  rider  should 
thoroughly  digest.  It  is  not  only  pleasant  read- 
ing, but  is  full  of  wisdom,  and  I  know  of  nothing 
that  has  been  written  on  the  subject  of  horseman- 
ship which  can  compare  with  it. 

Some  horses  are  natural  jumpers,  and  require 
very  little  tuition,  but  very  few  jump  in  good  form 
without  being  properly  schooled.  A  man  with 
good  nerve  will  take  a  horse  that  has  never  been 
over  a  fence  in  its  life,  and  ride  it  across  country 
in  the  wake  of  hounds.  He  will  probably  get 
several  falls,  which  I  consider  very  often  destroy 
the  confidence  of  a  bold  young  horse,  but  he  will 
succeed  in  getting  his  mount  either  over  or  through 
the  fences.  This  is  a  rough  and  ready  method 
which  I  do  not  recommend.  Of  course  our  first 
object  is  to  get  after  hounds,  and  it  is  better  to 
walk  through  a  hedge  than  to  be  left  behind,  but 
in    my   view   half    the    pleasure   in   riding    across 


6o  HORSES 

country  is  to  do  it  in  the  style  that  gives  satisfaction 
both  to  yourself  and  your  horse.  Any  one  who  is 
bold  enough  can  get  over  the  fence  somehow,  but 
it  requires  a  good  horseman  to  sail  over  the  fence 
in  that  smooth  and  easy  style  which  is  the  poetry 
of  riding.  You  who  are  a  beginner  cannot  hope 
to  attain  this  perfection  at  the  start,  but  do  not 
be  satisfied  with  slovenly  methods,  and  strive  by 
degrees  to  reach  the  higher  standard. 

The  man  with  bad  hands  can  never  be  in  sym- 
pathy with  his  horse  :  hands  and  horse  are  for  ever 
fighting  against  each  other.  Watch  a  really  good 
horseman  riding  over  a  country  and  you  will  ap- 
preciate what  I  mean.  Hounds  are  running,  and 
our  friend  whom  w^e  have  selected  as  an  example 
has  secured  a  good  start.  The  horse  has  previously 
been  the  mount  of  a  bad  rider,  and  remembering 
the  last  occasion,  dashes  off  at  full  speed,  and  with 
his  head  between  his  knees,  endeavours  to  avoid  the 
pain  of  an  expected  drag  on  the  bars  of  his  mouth. 
The  snaffle  worked  to  and  fro  quickly  brings  up  his 
head  into  its  natural  place,  and  finding  nothing  hurts 
him  in  that  position,  is  content  to  leave  it  there. 
The  first  fence  now  looms  in  sight,  and  the  horse 
knows  at  once,  by  the  mysterious  feel  of  his  rider's 
legs,  which  spot  he  will  require  to  jump.  When 
within  some  fifty  yards  of  the  fence,  and  mindful  of 
previous  occasions,  he  will  increase  his  pace  and 
lean  heavily  on  the  bit,  but  his  onward  career  will 
suddenly  be  checked  by  the  application  of  the 
curb,  which  hitherto  had  not  troubled  him.     This 


HANDLING   YOUR    HORSE  6i 

will  bring  his  head  towards  his  chest,  and  as  he 
bends  to  the  signal,  the  curb  will  be  relaxed  and 
the  snaffle  will  play  lightly  on  the  sensitive  bars. 
His  hind  legs  well  under  him,  he  now  moves  for- 
ward with  a  short  and  collected  stride,  but  the  firm 
grip  on  the  saddle-flaps  never  for  a  moment  allows 
him  to  doubt  his  rider's  intention  of  jumping.  A 
light  touch  with  the  bridle  and  a  faint  squeeze  of 
the  rider's  legs  then  indicate  that  the  exact  moment 
for  taking  off  has  arrived.  Much  to  the  horse's 
surprise,  he  finds  that  little  effort  is  needed  to  clear 
the  fence,  and  except  for  a  fairy-like  touch  on  the 
reins  there  is  nothing  to  restrain  him  from  stretching 
out  his  head  as  he  lands  on  the  other  side.  Thus 
from  fence  to  fence  horse  and  rider  go  on,  gradu- 
ally gaining  confidence  in  one  another,  until  at  the 
end  of  the  day  the  wild,  rushing,  headstrong  brute 
has  been  converted  into  a  temperate  hunter. 

Now  let  us  go  back  to  the  preliminary  lessons  in 
jumping.  A  stiff  wooden  bar  that  will  not  break 
should  be  used,  and  the  colt  driven  over  it  with 
long  reins,  but  you  will  find  full  directions  for  this 
in  Captain  Hayes'  book.  The  mistake  that  most 
people  make  is  asking  their  horses  to  jump  too 
high  at  the  start.  In  the  beginning  the  bar 
should  be  on  the  ground,  and  should  be  raised 
gradually  a  few  inches  at  a  time.  For  the  first 
lesson  three  feet  is  quite  high  enough,  and  after 
that  you  can  increase  it  slightly  every  day,  but 
the  most  important  part  in  putting  a  horse  over 
a  bar  is  to    make  him  jump  in  good   style   from 


62  HORSES 

his  hocks,  and  never  faster  than  a  canter.     Where 
possible  it  is  better  to  have  the  school  enclosed. 

After  a  course  of  lessons  in  the  school,  you  can 
ride  your  pupil  over  a  few  fences,  but  here  again 
let  me  advise  you  to  select  small  places  at  the  start. 
Your  object  must  always  be  to  give  the  horse  con- 
fidence in  himself,  and  never  allow  him  to  sicken 
of  his  task,  so  that  jumping  will  be  to  him  a  pleasure 
and  not  an  irksome  duty. 


IT       1  S  ■  >V1V      UNPABD  ONABLE  •'dFFEIN  CE      TO        : 
CB  OSS  •  -A.  •  M^VN    •    OR   •  TO  •  TAKE'  H  fS"  P  LACE ''^^aSig^^ 


CHAPTER  IV 


VARIOUS    HINTS    IN    RIDING   AND    DRIVING 


I  DO  not  wish  you  to  attach  too  much  importance 

to  your  clothes,  but  a  few  hints  may  be  useful  to 

those  whose  parents  do   not  happen  to  be  riders 

themselves.     The  fit  of  your  breeches  or  the  shape 

of  your  boots  will  not  make  you  a  horseman,  but 

they  may  materially  conduce  to  your  comfort  in 

the  saddle.     The  boy  in  irreproachable  horseman's 

dress  who  has   no  idea   of  riding  is  a  subject  for 

ridicule   to   onlookers,    and    is    more   conspicuous 

63 


64  HORSES 

when  it  is  evident  he  is  conscious  only  of  his  per- 
fect clothing  and  ignorant  of  his  equestrian  de- 
ficiencies. The  first  pair  of  breeches  will  give  a 
boy  much  harmless  enjoyment,  and  when  he  pulls 
them  on  he  will  feel  he  is  one  more  stage  nearer 
to  manhood,  but  his  performance  in  the  saddle 
ought  to  justify  the  wearing  of  a  horseman's  outfit. 

What  we  shall  put  on  is  not,  however,  a  question 
that  concerns  us  much  in  early  life,  and  an  arbi- 
trary parent  generally  decides  the  manner  in  which 
we  shall  be  clothed.  The  time  comes  eventually 
when  we  have  a  voice  in  the  matter,  and  it  is  for 
that  moment  I  am  preparing  to  offer  you  advice. 

Neatness  is  the  essential  point  in  a  horseman's 
dress,  and  I  would  have  you  always  bear  this 
in  mind.  Any  slovenliness  or  untidiness,  which 
might  be  overlooked  and  forgiven  in  a  pedestrian, 
is  brought  into  conspicuous  prominence  when  one 
is  mounted  on  a  horse.  In  fact  your  whole  appear- 
ance should  be  of  an  unassuming  character,  with 
your  clothes  fitting  in  a  manner  that  defies  criti- 
cism, and  of  a  quiet  pattern  that  does  not  catch 
the  eye. 

Breeches  are  the  most  important  feature  of  a 
horseman's  rig.  A  misshapen  coat  may  some- 
times be  pardoned,  a  battered  old  hat  overlooked, 
and  bad  boots  condoned,  but  an  ill-fitting  pair  of 
breeches  condemn  the  wearer  at  once.  Breeches, 
to  be  thoroughly  comfortable  for  riding  and  to  fit 
properly,  should  be  too  tight  for  walking.  They 
should  be  very  loose  in  the  thigh  and  just  as  tight 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  65 

at  the  knee.  There  are  now  in  most  provincial 
towns  tailors  who  can  make  breeches  fairly  well, 
but  until  recently  it  was  impossible  to  get  them 
outside  of  London.  However  good  a  tailor  may 
be  with  other  articles  of  apparel,  it  is  hopeless  to 
get  breeches  from  him  unless  he  has  made  them 
a  speciality,  and  the  best  London  man  will  fail 
without  he  is  given  sufficient  opportunities  of  try- 
ing on.  The  fit  of  breeches  is  quite  as  important 
to  the  comfort  of  the  wearer  as  it  is  to  his  general 
appearance.  For  your  own  sake  and  that  of  your 
friends  you  should  clothe  yourself  in  a  manner  that 
defies  criticism — perfection  in  lit  with  sober  pattern 
and  colouring.  Here  let  me  repeat,  that  dress 
which  will  pass  muster  on  foot  may  become  a 
glaring  eyesore  when  you  are  on  the  back  of  a 
horse. 

For  ordinary  riding  purposes  you  can  please  your- 
self, and  you  have  a  wide  range  wherein  to  make  your 
choice,  but  if  money  is  a  consideration,  you  would 
do  well  to  have  things  which  will  stand  the  strain 
of  a  day's  hunting.  Riding-boots  are  rather  ex- 
pensive articles  when  required  only  once  or  twice 
a  year,  but  a  neat  pair  of  leather  gaiters  do  equally 
well  for  an  occasional  day,  and  your  feet  can  be 
shod  in  ordinary  walking  boots.  Stout  cloth 
breeches  of  a  material  which  I  believe  is  called 
whipcord  will  stand  an  immensity  of  wear,  and 
when  '^strapped,"  i.e.  patched,  with  buckskin  on 
inside  of  the  knee  will  last  several  years. 

The  Newmarket  boot,  which  has  a  box-cloth  leg 

E 


66  HORSES 

and  a  leather  foot,  is  both  neat  and  comfortable  for 
summer  use,  but  it  appears  to  have  gone  out  of 
fashion  lately.  However  hot  the  weather  may  be, 
do  not  be  led  into  the  mistake  of  wearing  thin 
breeches,  as  they  will  not  stand  the  chafing  of  the 
saddle,  and  your  ow^n  skin  will  suffer  at  the  same 
time.  If  it  happens  you  get  unexpectedly  the 
opportunity  of  a  ride  and  have  no  riding  breeches, 
a  small  strap  below  the  knee  will  convert  your 
ordinary  trousers  into  very  satisfactory  substitutes. 
The  action  of  a  horse  has  the  effect  of  making 
trousers  work  up,  and  unless  there  is  something 
to  keep  them  in  place,  you  will  soon  have  exposed 
to  view  a  wide  expanse  of  bare  leg.  The  old- 
fashioned  strap  beneath  the  foot  kept  the  trousers 
in  place,  but  did  not  prevent  chafing  at  the  knees. 

These  hints  given  here  on  the  subject  of  costume 
can  be  of  no  practical  use  to  those  with  ample 
means  at  their  command,  as  they  have  only  to  put 
themselves  unreservedly  in  the  hands  of  the  best 
bootmakers  and  tailors  to  be  turned  out  in  correct 
style.  The  poor  man  or  his  son  may  perhaps  be 
able  to  glean  some  information  which  will  save 
his  pocket  and  help  him  to  avoid  glaring  errors. 

The  taste  of  the  individual  may  be  allowed  some 
latitude  in  the  selection  of  a  costume  for  an  ordi- 
nary ride,  but  in  the  hunting  field  custom  has 
ordained  that  certain  articles  shall  be  worn,  and 
to  depart  from  these  unwritten  rules  is  to  make 
yourself  unpleasantly  conspicuous.  A  gentleman 
owes  it  to  himself  to  be  ever  clean,  neat,  and  tidy, 


RIDING   AND   DRIVING  67 

but  if  he  appears  at  the  meet  in  unorthodox  cos- 
tume he  is  not  showing  a  proper  respect  to  the 
master  or  the  hunt. 

For  the  man  or  boy  who  hunts  only  once  or  twice 
in  the  season,  it  would  be  absurd  to  turn  out  in  the 
full  war-paint  of  the  chase,  but  the  regular  follower 
of  hounds  should  always  wear  a  red  coat.  A  red 
coat,  however,  demands  certain  accessories,  and  to 
omit  any  detail  is  an  unpardonable  sin.  The  high 
silk  hat,  top-boots,  white  breeches,  and  white  neck- 
cloth are  absolutely  indispensable  when  the  sports- 
man desires  to  don  pink.  It  would  be  better  for 
a  man  to  appear  in  the  hunting  field  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  than  for  him  to  be  guilty  of  wearing  a 
scarlet  coat  with  jack-boots. 

The  breeches  may  be  made  of  any  material  the 
wearer  chooses,  but  they  must  be  white  and  of  a 
good  fit.  Buckskins  when  properly  cleaned  look 
better  than  anything  else,  and  I  think  are  the  most 
comfortable  to  wear,  but  they  require  very  careful 
cleaning,  and  white  cotton  cords  are  preferable  to 
badly  cleaned  '*  leathers." 

The  neckcloth  must  be  tied — no  dummy,  please — 
and  the  whole  knot  should  be  securely  fastened  to  a 
fiannel  shirt  with  a  strong  safety-pin.  If  you  want 
to  avoid  lumbago,  rheumatism,  and  frequent  colds 
always  wear  flannel  for  hunting,  and  don't  be 
tempted  by  the  luxurious  softness  to  clothe  your 
body  in  silk.  The  waistcoat  is  a  very  important 
part  of  your  clothing,  and  you  should  remember 
on  it  you  will  depend  for  keeping  yourself  warm 


68  HORSES 

when  standing  at  a  covert- side  in  a  bitter  east 
wind. 

Doubtless  nothing  equals  in  smartness  a  white 
buckskin  waistcoat  for  wearing  with  a  red  coat, 
but  it  does  not  admit  sufficient  air,  and  one  of 
the  chief  rules  for  health  is  never  to  perspire  in 
anything  from  which  the  moisture  of  your  body 
cannot  easily  escape.  The  colour  may  be  left  to 
your  taste  or  the  want  of  it,  but  the  material 
should  be  of  something  thick  and  woolly.  The 
back  ought  to  be  made  of  flannel,  which  must 
come  down  in  a  flap  well  over  your  loins.  My 
idea  is  that  a  waistcoat  should  be  made  entirely  of 
wool,  and  that  the  coat  should  always  be  worn 
open,  only  to  be  buttoned  up  w^hen  you  have  to 
stand  still  in  a  cold  wind. 

You  will  find  it  much  pleasanter  to  be  too  warm 
than  too  cold  when  you  go  hunting,  but  do  not 
make  the  mistake  of  preventing  the  air  from  reach- 
ing your  body.  Avoid  all  waterproof  abominations, 
and  if  you  wear  plenty  of  flannel,  you  can  be  out 
all  day  in  a  soaking  rain  without  feeling  any  ill 
effects.  Change  into  dry  clothes  directly  you  get 
in  the  house  and  you  will  never  take  cold.  When 
we  are  young  and  strong  we  are  rather  apt  to  laugh 
at  rheumatism,  pneumonia,  or  other  unpleasant 
ailments,  but  the  strongest  are  liable  to  them,  and 
once  they  have  found  us  out  they  are  certain  to 
come  again.  Good  health  is  the  most  important 
factor  in  our  daily  happiness,  and  it  is  generally 
through  some  fault  of  our  own  that  we  suffer. 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  69 

Except  in  relation  to  clothes  used  for  riding, 
you  may  think  I  am  going  somewhat  beyond  the 
subject  of  this  book  in  discussing  health,  but  fully 
to  enjoy  horseback  exercise  you  must  be  strong, 
and  boys  do  not  always  realise  the  importance  of 
keeping  themselves  fit. 

The  one  essential  thing  to  health  is  fresh  air, 
both  for  lungs  and  body.  You  should  never  think 
of  going  to  sleep  without  opening  your  window 
top  and  bottom.  The  cold  bath  in  the  morning  is 
not  always  pleasant  to  contemplate  in  mid-winter, 
but  it  is  a  duty  which  should  never  be  shirked,  and 
the  afterglow  will  reward  you  for  the  momentary 
inconvenience.  In  winter  and  summer  I  make  a 
practice  of  drying  myself  after  the  cold  bath  in 
front  of  the  open  window.  The  oxygen  of  the  air 
thus  finds  its  way  direct  to  the  pores  of  the  skin,  so 
that  you  start  the  day  refreshed  and  invigorated  for 
whatever  work  there  is  to  be  done. 

The  air  bath  is  not  always  possible  if  you  live 
in  a  town,  for  reasons  which  you  will  understand, 
but  I  anticipate  in  a  few  years  that  all  bathrooms 
will  be  built  facing  the  east,  and  will  have  windows 
so  arranged  that  one  will  be  able  to  air  the  body 
without  exposing  it  to  the  public  gaze.  In  your 
clothing,  the  principle  you  should  ever  bear  in 
mind  is  to  wear  material  that  admits  the  greatest 
amount  of  air,  and  at  the  same  time  allows  the 
moisture  from  your  body  to  escape. 

We  all  know  the  old  saying  that  *^  cleanliness  is 
next  to  godliness,"  but  I  consider  it  is  a  part   of 


70  HORSES 

godliness.  It  is  a  duty  we  owe  to  the  Creator  to 
keep  our  minds  and  bodies  in  perfect  condition. 

I  think  it  was  on  the  subject  of  waistcoats  and 
the  necessity  of  having  them  ventilated  that  I  was 
led  away  to  this  lecture  on  health.  It  is  not  as 
important  for  air  to  reach  the  legs  as  the  body,  and 
for  that  reason  we  may  wear  leather  breeches, 
whereas  a  leather  waistcoat  would  be  unhealthy. 

In  boots  we  must  sacrifice  some  comfort  to  ap- 
pearances, and  the  well-developed  calf,  on  which 
the  owner  prides  himself  when  clad  in  stockings 
on  the  moor  or  the  golf  links,  may  be  a  source  of 
pain  when  squeezed  into  tight  top-boots.  The  top 
should  fit  closely  to  the  leg,  but  the  big  calf  can 
never  hope  to  look  as  smart  as  the  spindle-shank. 

You  may,  however,  study  your  comfort  in  the 
foot  of  the  boot,  which  should  be  roomy  with  a 
good  thick  sole.  If  the  boot  has  a  thin  sole  or  is 
tight,  you  will  suffer  from  cold  feet.  Silk  stockings 
are  an  advantage  in  reducing  the  circumference 
of  the  leg,  but  it  is  best  to  have  them  made  with 
woollen  feet. 

Patent  leather  is  permissible  in  jack-boots,  but 
never  with  tops,  and  for  comfort  I  should  advise 
you  not  to  use  it  for  either. 

Having  finished  with  boots  we  now  get  to  the 
spurs.  I  am  not  an  advocate  for  the  wearing  of 
articles  which  are  for  ornament  and  not  for  use, 
but  top-boots  without  spurs  have  a  forlorn  appear- 
ance that  would  ruin  the  tout  ensemble  of  an  other- 
wise faultless  get-up.     In  referring  here  to  a  spur, 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  71 

I  do  not  allude  to  the  armed  heel  that  is  meant  to 
goad  the  animal  to  further  exertions,  but  to  the 
harmless  imitation  that  is  guiltless  of  a  sharp  rowell. 
Spurs  with  rowells  should  be  on  the  heels  of  none 
except  the  most  experienced  horsemen,  and  many 
of  these  would  find  it  better  to  wear  them  only  on 
special  occasions.  I  make  a  practice  of  keeping 
one  pair  with  sharp  rowells,  but  I  never  put  them 
on  unless  the  horse  requires  considerable  per- 
suasion, and  then  I  expect  their  application  for  one 
day  enough  to  impress  the  lesson  on  his  mind.  In 
future  a  kick  in  the  ribs  with  the  cold  blunt  iron 
is  generally  sufficient  to  remind  the  animal  of  the 
punishment  previously  applied.  I  should  strongly 
advise  a  boy  never  to  wear  anything  but  dummy 
spurs,  and  when  his  pony  requires  a  little  stimu- 
lant, he  will  find  the  whip  all  that  is  necessary. 

Whips  can  hardly  be  brought  under  the  category 
of  costume,  but  a  horseman's  turnout  cannot  be 
considered  complete  without  one.  Everybody 
should  get  into  the  habit  of  carrying  a  stick  or 
something  in  the  hands  when  riding,  even  though 
the  occasion  for  using  it  is  unlikely  to  arise. 

A  crop,  that  is,  a  whip  with  hooked  handle,  should 
always  have  a  lash  attached.  The  object  of  the  hook 
is  for  opening  gates,  and  to  use  one  for  that  purpose 
without  a  lash  is  to  run  the  risk  of  having  it  pulled 
out  of  your  hand.  Nothing  looks  worse  than  to 
see  any  one  carrying  a  crop  without  a  lash,  and  if 
a  man  comes  out  hunting  with  this  portion  of  his 
whip  missing,  he  is  put  down  at  once  as  a  duffer. 


72  HORSES 

If  on  your  ride  you  are  not  likely  to  encounter  a 
gate,  then  carry  only  a  plain  stick,  or  a  whip  with- 
out a  hook. 

•  ••••• 

The  bridle  is  a  most  important  instrument  to  a 
horseman,  and  it  therefore  deserves  rather  more 
attention  than  we  have  hitherto  devoted  to  it.  In 
conjunction  with  a  pressure  of  the  legs,  the  bridle 
is  the  medium  which  conveys  our  wishes  to  the 
horse. 

Some  perhaps  may  imagine  it  possible  to 
stop  a  horse  by  the  mere  strength  of  arm, 
but  if  they  will  only  give  the  matter  a  moment's 
thought,  they  will  see  that  when  seated  on  a 
moving  object  you  have  no  power  to  arrest  its 
progress.  You  could  just  as  easily  expect  to 
stop  a  boat  in  which  you  were  a  passenger  by 
hauling  on  the  painter.  I  am  not  sufficiently 
learned  in  the  subject  to  describe  my  meaning  in 
the  proper  scientific  language,  but  we  must  all  of  us 
have  enough  sense  to  know  that,  to  exert  any  power 
of  leverage,  a  fulcrum  is  necessary.  When  on  the 
back  of  a  horse,  the  only  medium  by  which  we  can 
establish  a  fulcrum  with  the  earth  is  through 
our  body  to  the  animal's  hind  feet.  This  power 
is,  however,  very  small,  but  for  that  reason  we 
must  make  the  most  of  it  and  use  it  to  the  best 
advantage. 

Now  we  cannot  expect  a  horse  to  walk  about  on 
his  hind  legs,  and  each  of  his  fore  feet  must  in  turn 
touch  the  ground  eventually  if  he  is  to  make  any 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  73 

progress.  You  will  therefore  say,  how  is  that 
leverage  to  be  obtained  ?  To  get  the  leverage  you 
will  depend  entirely  on  balance,  and  this  is  the 
whole  secret  of  a  feeble  man  being  able  to  control 
such  a  powerful  animal.  You  must  so  manipulate 
the  bridle  that  the  balance  of  your  body  comes  on 
the  horse's  hind  quarters,  but  directly  that  weight 
is  shifted  to  the  fore-hand,  your  power  is  gone  and 
you  are  practically  a  helpless  passenger.  This  is 
my  theory,  and  I  may  very  likely  be  wrong,  but  I 
do  not  want  you  to  accept  what  I  have  stated  as 
gospel  without  first  reasoning  it  out  for  yourself. 
I  venture  to  think  you  will  agree  with  me,  and  we 
will  proceed  on  that  assumption. 

The  curb  bridle  is  of  course  the  means  by  which 
you  get  the  most  power  over  a  horse,  but  it  is  an 
instrument  that  requires  very  delicate  handling, 
only  to  be  used  by  horsemen  of  experience  and 
possessing  that  lightness  of  touch  which  we  call 
^'  hands."  In  referring  here  to  the  curb,  I  mean 
that  bit  and  the  snaffle-iron  combined,  but  we  will 
first  of  all  discuss  the  merits  and  disadvantages  of 
the  latter. 

The  plain  snaffle  is  the  father  and  origin  of  all 
other  bits.  When  used  in  conjunction  with  a 
martingale,  it  can  be  made  to  answer  the  purposes 
of  the  double-reined  curb,  but  the  snaffle  should 
then  have  two  reins  attached.  I  have  already 
explained  that  the  bit  should  lie  on  the  bars  of 
the  horse's  mouth,  and  that  when  it  works  up  to 
the  corners  it  becomes  useless  as  a  bridle.     The' 


74  HORSES 

martingale  prevents  the  horse  from  throwing  up 
his  head,  and  thus  the  bit  falls  into  the  right 
position.  You  must,  however,  remember  that 
throwing  up  the  head  is  the  only  method  the 
animal  has  of  protesting  against  the  unmerited 
pain  which  his  rider  inflicts. 

No  boy  or  man  who  is  not  an  accomplished  rider 
should  ever  be  allowed  either  a  martingale  or  curb. 
The  former  is  an  instrument  of  considerable  use  in 
controlling  a  young  horse  in  the  hands  of  a  good 
horseman,  but  I  would  never  advise  a  beginner  to 
risk  anything  that  is  not  perfectly  trained. 

When  I  began  to  ride  regularly  the  first  bit  of 
horseflesh  I  owned  was  a  game  little  mare  with 
an  extraordinarily  light  m^outh,  and  fortunately  for 
me  her  late  owner  advised  that  she  should  never 
have  anything  except  a  plain  snaffle.  In  those 
days  I  had  confidence  in  the  strength  of  my  muscle, 
and  did  not  appreciate  the  importance  of  delicate 
handling.  The  consequence  of  this  was,  if  I 
wanted  to  stop  I  took  a  dead  pull  at  the  reins,  when 
up  the  mare's  head  would  go,  with  her  ears  in  my 
face,  and  the  bit  in  the  corners  of  her  mouth.  In 
that  position  I  could  pull  until  I  was  tired  out,  but 
it  never  inconvenienced  the  mare  or  arrested  her 
onward  progress.  Gradually  it  dawned  upon  me 
that  physical  force  was  of  no  avail,  and  I  got  into 
the  habit  of  treating  her  mouth  as  a  thing  to  be 
touched  very  tenderly. 

You  will  understand  that  if  I  had  tied  her  down 
with  a  martingale  she  could  never  have  taught  me 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  75 

that  practical  lesson,  and  it  is  for  that  reason  I  have 
introduced  this  personal  incident. 

Although  less  harm  can  be  done  to  a  horse's 
mouth  with  a  snaffle  by  hanging  on  to  the  bridle 
than  would  be  the  case  with  a  sharper  bit,  you  must 
still  use  it  with  all  gentleness.  The  plain  snaffle  is 
a  very  valuable  bit  when  properly  handled,  and 
a  horse  will  bend  to  it  as  easily  as  to  a  curb,  but 
you  must  play  with  it  in  his  mouth,  and  never  take 
a  steady  pull. 

Try  to  forget  that  you  have  any  strength  in  your 
muscles,  for  if  you  were  a  Hercules  your  strength 
would  all  be  wasted  in  hauling  on  the  bridle.  The 
system  which  you  should  always  go  upon  is  that  of 
"give-and-take."  "Do  not  pull  at  a  horse  and  he 
will  not  pull  at  you  "  is  advice  that  has  been  written 
and  spoken  by  many  instructors  on  riding,  but  it  is 
such  a  valuable  rule  to  remember  that  I  must  be 
excused  for  repeating  it  here. 

A  confirmed  runaway  is  of  course  not  pleasant 
to  ride  on  with  only  a  snaffle,  but  I  do  not  advise 
any  inexperienced  horseman  to  mount  an  animal 
of  such  character.  A  horse  with  an  excellent 
reputation  may,  however,  in  a  momentary  exuber- 
ance of  spirits  and  with  a  feeling  of  contempt 
for  a  snaffle,  suddenly  take  it  into  his  head  to 
go  faster  than  you  think  desirable.  Unless  you 
can  bring  him  under  control  again,  the  pace  is 
liable  to  increase,  and  in  a  few  more  seconds  you 
will  find  yourself  run  away  with.  The  beginner's 
first  and  only  idea  is  to  haul  at  the  reins  with  all 


76  HORSES 

his  might,  but  however  muscular  he  may  be  his 
strength  soon  gives  out,  and  he  then  becomes  a 
helpless  passenger. 

The  horse  that  goes  off  with  his  head  up  in  the 
air,  and  has  no  martingale  to  bring  it  down,  is 
generally  the  easiest  class  of  runaway  to  deal  with, 
though,  as  he  cannot  see  where  he  is  going,  his 
rider  is  in  a  very  uncomfortable  position  for  a  few 
seconds.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  shake  the  reins 
and  drop  your  hands  on  the  withers,  when  the 
horse  will  soon  lower  his  head,  and  you  can  get 
a  gentle  feel  of  his  mouth  again. 

The  horse  that  puts  his  head  down  or  takes  the 
bit  in  his  teeth  has  to  be  treated  in  a  different 
manner.  Loose  the  reins,  then  pull  the  bit  sharply 
through  his  mouth  from  one  side  to  the  other, 
which  method  will  generally  be  found  effective 
in  bringing  his  head  into  the  right  position.  The 
snaffle,  when  used  in  this  way,  can  inflict  consider- 
able pain  on  a  horse,  but  he  must  be  made  to 
understand  he  will  be  punished  unless  he  regulates 
his  force  to  your  wishes  rather  than  to  his  own. 

There  are  many  different  varieties  of  bridles 
which  have  been  invented  for  subjugating  and 
controlling  animals  that  have  been  taught  to  pull 
by  bad  riding,  but  the  plain  ordinary  snaffle  and 
the  snaffle  combined  with  curb  will  be  found  to 
answer  most  purposes.  Have  nothing  to  do  with 
a  bit  that  is  covered  with  indiarubber,  for  though 
the  principle  of  it  may  seem  right  to  you  in  that 
it  is  yielding  to   the   horse's   mouth,   you  will  find 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  77 

in  practice  it  dries  up  all  the  saliva.  When  the 
mouth  is  harsh  and  dry,  without  any  saliva  or  white 
froth,  it  is  impossible  for  the  rider  to  be  on  good 
terms  with  his  mount.  So  important  do  I  consider 
this  that  if  I  get  on  to  an  animal  which  some  one 
with  bad  '*  hands  "  has  just  been  riding,  I  generally 
give  him  a  handful  of  grass  to  munch,  and  thus 
restore  the  saliva. 

There  are  many  good  horsemen  who  swear  by  a 
gag,  and  will  never  ride  a  horse  that  attempts  to 
pull  in  anything  else.  I  refer  here  to  the  bridle  that 
is  a  combination  of  gag  and  curb,  the  former  taking 
the  place  of  the  snafHe.  I  cannot  recommend  the 
gag  except  for  special  occasions,  and  then  it  is 
useful  for  a  horse  that  has  acquired  the  habit  of 
boring  his  head  down  to  his  knees  ;  but  as  a  bit  for 
hunting  or  regular  riding,  I  consider  it  is  opposed  to 
the  first  principles  of  horsemanship  and  humanity. 

In  the  ordinary  double-rein  bridle,  to  which  I 
will  presently  return,  the  curb  should  be  looked 
upon  as  an  instrument  of  punishment  or  warning 
not  to  pull,  and  the  snaffle  should  be  the  medium 
of  conveying  your  wishes  when  the  horse  is  on  his 
good  behaviour. 

The  gag  presses  on  the  corners  of  the  mouth 
where  you  do  not  want  it,  and  you  must  either  pull 
the  horse's  head  up  in  the  air  or  ride  on  the  curb. 
Both  are  severe  bits,  and  therefore,  when  they  are 
used  together,  you  have  no  means  of  rewarding  a 
horse  for  going  kindly. 

The   gag -snaffle,    or    a    gag   and   a    snaffle,    are 


78  HORSES 

reasonable  bridles,  and  may  suit  some  horses,  but 
1  think  they  are  of  most  value  to  men  with  bad 
*^  hands,"  and  those  who  are  conscious  of  their  de- 
fects in  this  respect  would  do  well  to  make  more 
use  of  them. 

I  am  supposing  you  know  what  a  gag  is,  but  I 
believe  many  people  who  ride  with  it  do  not  realise 
that  they  can  exert  nearly  double  the  power  with 
the  reins,  and  should  therefore  use  their  strength 
with  mercy. 

This  brings  us  to  a  consideration  of  the  double- 
rein  curb  and  snaffle,  w^hich  is,  in  my  estimation, 
the  nearest  thing  to  perfection  in  bridles  that  has 
been  invented.  I  have,  however,  already  said  that 
it  is  not  a  bridle  for  the  inexperienced  horseman  or 
the  heavy-fisted,  and  these  had  better  content  them- 
selves with  using  the  single-rein  snaffle. 

The  curb  is  of  very  little  value  without  a  nose- 
band, but  it  must  be  neither  too  tight  nor  too  loose. 
The  horse  that  tries  to  get  the  advantage  of  you 
either  opens  his  mouth  very  wide  or  keeps  it  tightly 
shut,  and  you  must  therefore  fix  your  noseband  so 
that  he  can  move  his  jaws  comfortably  without 
opening  them  too  much.  The  action  of  the  curb 
makes  the  horse  open  his  mouth,  and  you  should 
then  play  lightly  with  the  snaffle. 

Take  care  that  the  noseband  is  not  too  low,  or  it 
will  nip  the  corners  of  the  mouth  between  it  and 
the  bridle,  thereby  causing  a  sore  place  which  will 
irritate  the  horse. 

The  cheek  of  the  bit  should  be  of  fair  length 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  79 

below  the  bar,  which  should  be  smooth  and  with 
only  a  slight  port.  The  bar  that  moves  up  and 
down  is  best,  as  it  gives  a  certain  amount  of  play, 
and  the  great  object  in  bridling  is  not  to  allow^  the 
bit  to  remain  long  in  one  place. 

You  may  have  good  hands,  and  your  double- 
reined  bridle  may  be  just  as  I  have  described,  but 
unless  it  is  put  on  properly  it  will  be  a  source  of 
irritation  to  the  horse  and  consequently  unsatis- 
factory to  the  rider.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  a  great 
many  people  do  not  realise  the  importance  of  this, 
and  the  first  thing  I  do  when  mounting  a  strange 
horse  is  to  look  if  the  bridle  requires  adjusting. 
The  curb  should  be  high  up  in  the  mouth  and  the 
snaffle  low.  If  you  go  into  the  saddle-room  and 
look  at  the  double-reined  bridles  hanging  up,  you 
will  generally  see  them  as  they  ought  to  lie  in  a 
horse's  mouth,  the  snaffle  falling  loosely  over  the 
curb. 

When  the  snafHe  is  too  tight,  and  therefore  high 
in  the  mouth,  it  cannot  touch  the  sensitive  part,  and 
might  just  as  well  be  fixed  to  the  tail  as  be  where  it  is. 
I  have  already  told  you  to  depend  on  the  snaffle  for 
playing  on  a  horse's  mouth,  and  to  look  upon  the 
curb  only  as  an  aid  to  the  former.  Many  grooms 
think  it  looks  smarter  to  have  the  snaffle  tight,  and 
the  horses  have  to  suffer  in  silence. 

Twenty  or  thirty  years  ago  bits  were  much  too 
thin,  and  Whyte-Melville  remarks  on  this  in  his 
^'  Riding  Recollections,"  which  may  perhaps  have 
had  something   to  do  with  the  change.     Now  we 


8o  HORSES 

seldom  see  a  thin  bit,  and  people  have  gone  rather 
to  the  other  extreme,  so  that  in  some  instances  the 
combined  thickness  of  snaffle  and  curb  is  nearly  as 
big  as  a  man's  wrist.  This  is,  of  course,  too  much 
iron  to  put  in  a  horse's  mouth,  and  I  can  only 
advise  you  to  use  your  common  sense  in  finding 
the  happy  medium. 

Although  I  do  not  advise  a  martingale  to  be  used 
regularly,  it  is  a  very  powerful  aid  to  the  control  of 
a  young  or  fractious  horse.  Always  have  it  on  the 
curb  rein,  because  when  on  the  snaffle  it  neutralises 
the  deUcate  feel  you  should  have  on  a  horse's 
mouth.  Both  instruments  of  control  should  be  on 
the  same  rein,  and  then  as  he  gives  to  you  with  the 
one,  you  can  play  lightly  wuth  the  other  as  a  rew^ard 
for  good  behaviour. 

See  that  the  rings  of  the  martingale  are  not  big 
enough  to  slip  over  the  rings  of  the  bit,  or  in 
jumping  a  fence  you  may  find  the  horse's  head 
tied  down  with  very  unpleasant  results. 

A  first-rate  horseman  can  do  things  that  are 
beyond  the  power  of  others,  and  I  know  one 
who  rides  all  his  horses  in  martingales  ;  but  my 
friend  who  reads  this  chapter  would,  I  feel  certain, 
be  better  without  it,  or  at  least  until  he  has  had 
rather  more  experience.  A  bad  rider  is  often 
confirmed  in  the  error  of  his  ways  by  using  a 
martingale,  and  his  horse  is  tortured  at  the  same 
time. 

A  "  pelham  "  is  a  bridle  of  which  I  have  had  very 
little  experience,  but  though  the  principle  of  it  is  to 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  8i 

my  mind  all  wrong,  I  can  quite  understand  that  a 
man  with  bad  hands  might  find  it  useful. 

Do  not  have  your  reins  too  thick,  or  you  will  not 
be  able  to  get  the  requisite  delicate  touch,  and  see 
that  they  are  kept  properly  supple. 

If  you  want  to  be  smart,  do  not  have  the  head- 
piece of  the  bridle  buckled  on  to  the  bit,  but  let  it 
be  sewn.  I  have  no  explanation  to  give  for  this, 
but  I  know  that  it  does  not  look  well,  and  with  that 
you  must  be  satisfied. 


^'I'L 


CHAPTER   V 

VARIOUS    HINTS   IN    RIDING   AND    DRIVING — contifiued 

Most  people  imagine  they  know  how  to  ride  when 
once  they  get  beyond  the  falHng-ofT  stage,  but 
sticking  to  the  pigskin  is  not  a  knack  to  be 
acquired  in  a  day,  and  a  man  cannot  pose  as  a 
fine  horseman  when  he  has  not  even  learnt  to 
preserve  his  balance.  With  driving  it  is  different, 
and  any  one,  who  has  ever  sat  behind  a  horse,  may 
delude  himself  with  the  idea  that  he  is  a  fine  whip. 

I  am  not  going  to  write  about  fancy  driving,  how 
to  hold  your  reins  and  your  whip,  or  the  exact 
angle  at  which  you  should  be  seated  on  the  box ; 
so  that  if  you  want  to  be  a  smart  driver  you  must 
go  elsewhere  for  a  lesson. 

There  is,  to  my  mind,  too  much  show  and  pre- 
tence   about   driving   in    England.      The    primary 

82 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  83 

aim  has  been  lost  sight  of  in  trying  to  attain  a 
style  which  shall  please  the  eye,  and  this  style  is 
not  based  on  common  sense.  I  am  an  advocate 
for  a  pleasing  outward  appearance  in  everything, 
but  when  usefulness  is  sacrificed  to  show,  then  I 
consider  we  are  verging  on  vulgar  snobbery. 

The  first  thing  is,  of  course,  the  perfect  control 
of  the  horse,  and  this  must  be  accomplished  with- 
out causing  him  any  discomfort.  This  rule  is 
applicable  equally  to  riding  or  driving,  and  it  is 
the  principle  on  which  you  must  base  all  your 
dealings  with  the  animal. 

I  can  never  understand  the  amusement  some 
people  apparently  find  in  driving  four  horses  in 
London.  The  club  meets  in  Hyde  Park  are,  of 
course,  to  a  certain  extent,  social  functions,  but 
they  always  appear  to  me  very  dismal  affairs,  and 
the  majority  of  the  drivers  look  as  if  the  elevation 
to  the  box  seat  had  brought  a  grave  responsibility 
on  their  shoulders.  They  might  be  enjoying  them- 
selves, but  the  casual  observer  would  imagine  they 
were  on  the  way  to  a  funeral. 

To  rattle  along  behind  a  good  horse  at  something 
like  fourteen  miles  an  hour  is  pleasant  enough 
and  there  is  a  little  excitement  in  driving,  but  most 
amateur  coachmen  seem  content  to  crawl  at  a  pace 
of  which  a  coster's  donkey  would  be  ashamed. 

There  are  men  who  can  drive  four  horses  well, 
and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  see  them  take  a  team  through 
traffic  at  a  fairly  rapid  rate,  but  the  average  coach- 
man is  a  slave  to  a  system  of  driving,  which  is 


84  HORSES 

meant  more  for  ornament  than  for  use.  What 
does  it  matter  how  you  hold  your  reins,  if  you  can 
put  your  fingers  on  those  you  want  at  the  right 
moment  ?  Here  I  must  explain,  or  you  will  mis- 
understand my  meaning.  The  beginner  will  take 
his  lesson  from  those  who  have  had  experience, 
and  he  must  acquire  those  methods  which  they 
have  found  best,  but  remember  they  are  only  the 
means  to  attain  an  end.  When  the  pupil  has 
mastered  and  become  thoroughly  familiar  with 
recognised  methods,  he  can  then  rely  on  his  own 
judgment  as  to  which  he  thinks  best. 

Most  of  us  have  been  to  the  W^ild  West  show, 
and  there  seen  Colonel  Cody  drive  a  coach  round 
the  ring  with  four  rough  ponies.  There  was 
nothing  stiff  or  laboured  in  the  way  he  held  the 
ribbons,  and  yet  he  did  it  with  an  easy  grace  with- . 
out  doing  it  for  effect.  That  is  my  idea  of  how 
four  horses  should  be  driven.  I  can  recall  another 
excellent  exhibition  of  the  art  which  I  once  wit- 
nessed, equally  effective,  but  in  an  entirely  different 
style.  This  w^as  Lord  Lonsdale's  drive  against  time, 
in  which  he  had  backed  himself,  or  others  had,  to 
do  twenty  miles  under  the  hour  with  four  different 
conveyances.  The  whole  thing  was  wonderfully 
well  done,  and  was  accomplished  in  about  fifty-one 
minutes,  but  what  impressed  me  most  wa§  the  way 
in  which  he  handled  the  four  horses.  There  was 
no  sudden  jerk  or  jumping  into  the  collar  by  one 
horse  as  the  heavy  char-a-banc  started,  but  every 
trace  drew  taut,  and  in   another  second  the  four 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  85 

horses  were  in  full  gallop,  their  hoofs  ringing  out 
on  the  road  with  the  regularity  of  clockwork. 

These  are,  however,  generalities  which  will  not 
help  the  beginner,  and  I  do  not  imagine  any  one 
would  attempt  the  difficulties  of  guiding  a  team 
until  he  had  learned  to  drive  one  horse. 

Before  a  man  thinks  of  getting  on  the  box  and 
holding  the  reins,  he  ought  first  of  all  to  know  how 
to  harness  a  horse.  This,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is 
often  thought  to  be  unnecessary,  and  there  are 
many  men  who  know  how  to  drive,  but  who  have 
not  the  slightest  idea  of  harnessing  the  animal,  or, 
when  harnessed,  joining  him  to  the  vehicle. 

Men  are  perhaps  a  little  ashamed  of  exhibiting 
their  ignorance  of  these  details,  but,  having  every- 
thing to  learn,  a  boy  need  have  no  scruples  in 
asking  for  technical  knowledge  from  those  who  are 
familiar  with  the  subject  in  their  everyday  life.  As 
I  have  said,  in  riding  let  him  first  of  all  learn  all  the 
usual  methods  that  are  employed,  and  then  when 
he  reaches  riper  years  he  can  alter  or  adapt  them 
in  the  way  he  thinks  best. 

Having  mastered  the  difficulty  of  putting  on  a 
riding-bridle,  you  should  find  it  easy  to  put  on  the 
same  article  used  for  driving,  but  remember  that 
the  collar  comes  first.  This,  I  think,  is  generally 
the  stumbling-block  of  those  who  have  not  pre- 
viously attempted  to  harness  a  horse.  The  animal's 
head  always  appears  to  be  so  much  bigger  than  the 
space  through  which  it  has  to  pass. 

You  will,  of   course,  not   attempt   to   harness  a 


86  HORSES 

horse  until  you  have  had  considerable  experience 
with  a  pony.  The  pony  you  ride  will  be  none  the 
worse  for  an  occasional  day  between  the  shafts, 
and  it  will  keep  him  from  getting  too  fresh.  I 
always  thought  that  a  drive  for  the  sake  of  driving 
was  very  poor  fun.  To  enjoy  a  drive  one  wants  to 
have  an  object  in  view,  besides  the  mere  pleasure 
of  sitting  behind  one  horse  or  a  pair. 

Let  us  imagine  you  have  three  or  four  friends 
stopping  with  you,  and  you  know  some  spot,  say 
six  or  eight  miles  from  home,  where  you  would 
like  to  have  a  picnic.  This  is  a  good  opportunity 
to  show  that  you  can  harness  your  pony  as  well 
as  drive  him.  I  suppose  it  is  unnecessary  to  tell 
you  not  to  forget  the  eatables,  but  there  are  one 
or  two  things  that  might  escape  your  memory. 
Here  is  a  list  that  may  assist  you.  A  bucket  (tin) 
to  water  the  pony,  and  a  feed  of  corn  if  you  are 
going  any  distance.  The  food  you  take  for  your- 
selves should  not  be  too  elaborate,  or  it  will  spoil 
the  fun  of  the  thing.  A  kettle  is  the  chief  article, 
and  you  can  carry  the  water  in  wine-bottles,  which 
need  not  be  brought  back.  A  teapot,  cups,  loaf  of 
bread,  pot  of  jam,  tea,  and  a  bottle  of  milk  are 
absolutely  indispensable.  A  few  knives  and  spoons 
will  also  add  to  your  comfort,  but  the  latter  articles 
have  a  way  of  losing  themselves  on  these  occasions, 
and  it  is  therefore  as  well  they  should  not  be  of  any 
great  value.  The  materials  for  making  and  starting 
a  fire  must  not  be  omitted,  but  they  will  depend  a 
good  deal  on  what  can  be  gathered  on  the  spot, 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  87 

though  it  is  always  advisable  to  take  some  dry  stuff 
to  make  a  first  blaze.  See  for  yourself  that  a  box 
of  matches  is  included,  as  they  are  very  frequently 
forgotten,  the  cook  trusting  to  the  butler  to  do  it, 
and  the  butler  trusting  to  some  one  else.  Now  then, 
harness  your  pony,  pack  in  your  things,  and  off 
you  go. 

I  hope  you  will  have  found  out  the  mysteries  of 
harnessing  before  you  start  on  this  expedition,  but 
I  will  take  the  opportunity  of  giving  a  few  hints. 

We  will  return  to  the  collar,  to  which  I  have 
already  referred.  If  the  pony  has  a  big  head,  or 
the  collar  is  on  the  small  side,  you  must  take  off 
the  hames  first.  The  hames  are  the  metal  portion 
of  the  harness,  by  which  the  traces  join  issue  with 
the  collar.  Make  the  pony  face  you,  then  with 
a  hand  on  each  side  of  the  collar,  the  small  end 
down,  give  it  a  vigorous  push  and  it  will  be  over 
his  head  in  a  second.  Once  on  the  neck,  you  will 
find  it  quite  easy  to  turn  the  collar  round  with  the 
narrow  part  upwards,  but  before  you  do  so  it  is 
advisable  to  buckle  on  the  hames,  as  it  is  usual  in 
England  to  buckle  them  at  the  narrow  end,  and  it  is 
difficult  for  a  boy  to  reach  the  withers  of  a  tall  pony 
in  order  to  perform  this  operation.  If  you  find  the 
pony's  head  does  not  slip  easily  through  the  open- 
ing, take  the  collar  in  both  hands,  put  one  knee  in 
the  inside  and  then  place  all  your  weight  on  it  for 
a  second. 

Unless  the  pony  is  very  quiet,  it  is  advisable  to 
tie  his  head  up  again  whilst  you  put  on  the  rest  of 


88  HORSES 

the  harness.  Buckle  the  hames  on  securely,  so  that 
there  is  no  chance  of  them  slipping,  and  then  turn 
the  collar  round. 

The  adjustment  of  the  crupper  is  very  simple 
to  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  harnessing 
horses,  but  it  is  by  no  means  an  easy  task  for 
others.  There  always  appears  to  be  some  risk  in 
standing  at  a  horse's  heels  and  taking  liberties  with 
his  tail,  but  there  is  really  no  danger.  Stand 
directly  behind,  take  the  tail  in  one  hand,  having 
previously  doubled  up  the  loose  hair,  then  with  a 
vigorous  push  raise  it  to  an  almost  perpendicular 
position  and  slip  on  the  crupper.  See  that  there 
are  no  hairs  caught  up,  and  that  the  bight  of 
the  crupper  is  as  far  as  it  will  go.  If  you 
do  this  part  of  your  work  in  a  half-hearted  or 
hesitating  sort  of  way,  the  pony  will  exert  all  his 
muscles  to  hold  the  tail  down ;  but  go  at  it  boldly 
and  he  will  allow  you  to  do  it  at  once.  Of  course, 
before  putting  on  the  crupper  you  will  have  laid 
the  pad  loosely  on  the  pony's  back,  when  all  you 
have  to  do  is  to  draw  it  forward  and  buckle  under- 
neath. Bridle  and  reins  will  then  complete  your 
task,  but,  as  I  have  known  people  get  muddled 
about  the  latter,  a  few  words  of  instruction  will  not 
be  out  of  place. 

Take  the  reins  where  they  meet  in  a  bight  and 
run  your  hands  down  to  the  buckle  ends.  This 
is  merely  to  see  that  they  are  not  twisted.  Reeve 
each  end,  first  through  ring  on  pad,  then  ring  on 
hames,  and  lastly  buckle  on  to  the  bit. 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  89 

Now  that  you  have  succeeded  in  getting  the 
harness  on,  you  will  not  find  much  difficulty  in 
joining  the  pony  to  the  cart,  but  you  might  get 
somebody  near  by  to  give  you  a  little  assistance. 
Raise  the  shafts,  then  pull  the  cart  forward  or  back 
the  pony,  and  insert  the  shaft  ends  in  the  tugs  on 
the  pad  as  far  as  the  *'  stops,"  which  are  there  to 
prevent  them  going  any  further  back.  Hook  on 
the  traces  and  buckle  the  bellyband,  not  too  tight 
or  too  loose,  but  loose  enough  to  give  the  cart  a 
little  play. 

Unless  you  live  in  a  very  flat  country  I  strongly 
advise  you  to  use  breeching,  though  you  will  find 
the  majority  of  grooms  have  a  rooted  objection  to 
it,  their  general  substitute  being  a  kicking-strap, 
which  is  of  no  possible  use  except  to  prevent  a 
horse  kicking.  No  boy  ought  ever  to  drive  a  horse 
or  pony  that  is  likely  to  kick,  and  a  man  is  foolish 
willingly  to  sit  behind  an  animal  that  has  previously 
been  guilty  of  this  vice. 

A  kicking-strap  may  be  of  some  use,  when 
fastened  at  the  right  angle,  as  a  preventive  in 
breaking  young  horses,  but  is  very  seldom  any 
help  in  holding  down  the  vicious  old  when  they 
really  mean  to  kick. 

Breeching  is  for  the  purpose  of  holding  back  a 
cart  going  down  hill,  and  when  it  is  not  used  the 
whole  weight  must  come  on  the  horse's  tail.  If 
you  consider  the  matter,  you  will  see  that  a  horse's 
breech  is  the  natural  and  best. portion  of  his  body 
for  holding  back  a  weight. 


90  HORSES 

You  must  use  your  own  common  sense  in  find- 
ing out  the  place  in  the  shaft  for  fastening  the 
breeching,  and  also  the  exact  tightness  it  should 
be  buckled.  On  most  carts  you  will  see  the  metal 
staples  for  both  breeching  and  kicking-straps, 
but  I  shall  leave  it  to  you  to  choose  the  right 
one.  When  you  have  finished  putting  the  animal 
between  the  shafts,  back  him  gently,  and  if  the 
weight  of  the  cart  comes  on  the  breeching  and 
not  on  the  stops,  you  will  know  that  you  have 
accomplished  the  feat  correctly.  There  should 
be  just  a  little  play  between  breeching  and  traces, 
that  is,  when  one  is  tight  the  other  should  be 
slack. 

I  may  add  that  I  consider  a  tub — low  cart  w^ith 
door  behind — is  the  best  and  safest  conveyance  for 
boys  when  they  drive  themselves. 
'  However,  we  are  wasting  all  the  best  of  the  day 
in  talking,  and  it  is  time  we  started  for  the  picnic. 
The  provisions  are  packed,  so  that  you  can  now 
jump  in  and  drive  away. 

Let  me  earnestly  entreat  you  not  to  play  tricks 
while  in  charge  of  a  horse. 

If  you  are  going  any  distance,  do  not  go  too  fast 
at  first,  and  always  remember  you  have  the  same 
distance  to  come  back.  Different  ponies  have 
different  rates  of  speed,  but  it  is  an  excellent  rule 
never  to  drive  horse  or  pony  quite  up  to  his  full 
pace  if  the  journey  is  at  all  likely  to  be  long. 
When  you  drive  him  beyond  that  speed  he  is 
certain  to    break  into  a  canter,  and  will  soon  be 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  91 

tired.  Some  ponies  are  naturally  lazy,  and  will  not 
trot  up  anywhere  near  their  limit  unless  the  whip  is 
applied,  but  please  remember  there  are  others 
equally  generous  and  willing,  who  are  imbued  with 
a  spirit  of  gameness  that  is  continually  urging  them 
on — this  must  be  controlled.  I  have  often  heard  a 
stupid  groom,  in  reply  to  a  remonstrance  from  his 
master  about  driving  a  horse  too  fast,  say,  ''  I  never 
touched  him  with  whip."  This  sort  of  man  thinks 
if  he  lets  the  horse  go  his  own  pace  he  cannot  be 
accused  of  driving  too  fast,  and  it  is  such  men  that 
ruin  high-spirited  horses. 

I  feel  certain  that  the  reader  I  am  addressing  is 
not  the  sort  to  ill-treat  dumb  animals  of  any  kind, 
and  I  am  sure  he  will  understand  that  when  in 
charge  of  a  horse  the  responsibility  for  its  welfare 
is  upon  his  own  shoulders.  Cruelty  to  animals  is 
more  often  than  not  the  result  of  thoughtlessness, 
at  least  I  believe  it  is  with  boys,  if  not  with  men. 
If  you  will  forgive  me  for  preaching,  I  should  like 
to  point  out  that  it  is  worse  to  be  cruel  to  animals 
than  it  is  to  human  beings.  The  Creator  has  put 
the  animals  in  our  power,  and  therefore  under  our 
protection.  Horses  have  to  work  for  us,  and  cattle 
have  to  die  for  us,  but  that  is  no  reason  why  we 
should  inflict  any  unnecessary  suffering. 

After  considerable  experience  with  animals  of  all 
sorts,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  each 
and  every  one  has  a  distinct  individual  character. 
Bear  this  in  mind,  and  study  the  characteristics  of 
your  pony  or  your  dog.     If  there  is  any  sympathy 


92  HORSES 

in  your  nature  you  will  understand  them  better, 
and  they  will  look  on  you  as  a  friend. 

Whatever  you  may  do  in  after  years,  I  hope  now 
you  will  look  upon  the  whip  as  an  instrument  of 
punishment  or  a  goad  to  further  exertions,  and 
when  not  required  will  allow  it  to  repose  quietly  in 
the  bracket.  The  smart  coachman,  or  the  man  who 
considers  himself  an  expert  driver,  always  carries 
the  whip  in  his  hand,  and  would  consider  any  one 
a  duffer  who  did  otherwise.  I  am  in  a  minority, 
and  therefore  it  is  natural  to  suppose  I  must  be 
wrong,  but  I  shall  still  adhere  to  my  opinion.  I 
consider  that  the  whip  should  only  be  used  w^hen 
the  voice  fails,  and  that  a  horse  should  always  have 
the  chance  of  responding  to  the  voice  before  the 
lash  is  applied.  The  lazy  and  thick-skinned  may 
not  object  to  a  stroke  or  two  with  the  whip,  but  it 
is  an  insult  to  a  high-spirited  and  willing  horse.  If 
a  schoolmaster  hit  a  boy  to  make  him  get  on  faster 
with  his  lessons  without  first  speaking,  that  boy 
would  feel  justly  aggrieved. 

In  discussing  these  details  we  have  passed  the 
time  away  whilst  driving,  and  we  now  arrive  at  the 
spot  you  had  chosen  for  the  picnic.  The  last  half- 
mile  you  drove  quite  slowly,  so  that  the  pony 
should  not  be  too  hot  when  you  stopped.  I  ought 
to  have  added,  before  making  a  start,  that  the  pony 
should  have  had  a  good  strong  halter  underneath 
the  bridle,  and  a  feed  of  corn  inside  the  cart. 

You  are  captain  of  this  outfit,  so  that  you  will 
have  to  give  orders,  but  the  welfare  of  the  pony 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  93 

must  be  your  care.  We  will  suppose  it  is  the  after- 
noon, and  the  long  drive  has  made  you  ready  for  a 
cup  of  tea.  One  of  your  friends  can  help  you  take 
the  pony  out,  the  others  you  can  send  to  collect 
sticks  for  the  fire  and  get  the  kettle  to  boil. 

The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  tie  up  the  reins  to  a  ring 
on  the  pad,  and  after  you  have  unhitched  the  horse 
you  will  take  a  double  overhand  knot  in  them,  so 
that  they  will  not  drag  on  the  ground.  Then  un- 
buckle the  bridle  from  the  bit  on  one  side  and  slip 
it  out  of  his  mouth,  take  the  halter  in  your  hand, 
and  lead  him  down  to  water.  There  may  be  a  pool 
or  stream  handy,  but,  if  not,  you  will  have  to  find 
a  pump  or  spring,  and  it  was  for  that  reason  I 
advised  you  to  bring  a  bucket.  When  the  pony 
has  quenched  his  thirst  you  will  select  a  tree, 
and  tie  him  securely  to  it  with  the  halter,  but  he 
must  be  able  to  feed  off  the  ground  without  being 
able  to  get  a  leg  over  the  halter.  Give  him  the  feed 
of  corn  and  then  superintend  the  fire. 

This  is  not  a  treatise  on  camping  out  or  picnics, 
and  if  I  write  any  more  my  editor  will  be  calling 
me  to  order,  but  before  I  leave  you  to  enjoy  your 
outing  there  are  two  wrinkles  I  can  give  which  may 
be  useful.  The  first  is,  get  a  big  log  of  wood  and 
put  on  the  weather  side  of  your  fire.  The  second 
is,  your  kettle  should  be  over  the  fire  and  not 
resting  on  it. 

Good  ''hands"  are  quite  as  important  in  driving 
as  riding,  and  it  requires  an  artist  to  make  a  horse 
really  show  himself   to   advantage.     Driving  with 


94  HORSES 

the  bent  wrist  is  considered  the  correct  style,  and 
it  has  this  advantage — you  can  get  a  more  deHcate 
feel  of  a  horse's  mouth  ;  but  the  average  driver  is 
much  too  heavy-fisted  to  appreciate  why  he  does  it. 

For  ordinary  driving  there  is  nothing  better  than 
a  plain  snaffle-bit,  and  if  the  pony  cannot  be  held 
with  that  he  is  not  fit  for  a  young  driver. 

Driving-reins  are  much  too  heavy  to  get  a  really 
delicate  touch  on  a  horse's  mouth,  and  for  that 
reason  I  recommend  an  easy  bit. 

No  one  with  any  consideration  for  a  horse  ever 
thinks  of  using  a  bearing-rein. 

•  ••••• 

A  few  final  hints  on  horsemanship,  and  I  have 
done. 

Riding  is  an  art  that  can  only  be  attained  by  con- 
stant practice,  and  the  man  who  tells  you  he  felt 
quite  comfortable  the  first  time  he  was  on  the  back 
of  a  horse,  you  may  put  down  as  a  perverter  of  the 
truth.  No  one  need  despair,  however  hopeless  he 
may  feel  in  the  saddle,  and  he  may  be  certain 
others  have  felt  equally  awkward  in  the  same  posi- 
tion. Like  everything  else,  it  is  much  easier  to 
acquire  when  young,  but  any  one  with  determina- 
tion and  nerve  can  learn  to  ride,  even  if  he  has 
reached  middle  age. 

Riding  is  not  natural  to  the  human  being  any 
more  than  swimming,  and  a  man  is  as  much  at 
sea  for  the  first  time  on  a  horse  as  he  is  in  deep 
water.  The  boy  acquires  the  knack  of  doing  both 
without  much  trouble  and  without  knowing  how 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  95 

he  does  it,  but  the  adult  must  apply  great  patience 
and  determination  to  overcome  his  fear  of  the 
strange  position. 

The  bravest  man,  if  unable  to  swim  and  thrown 
into  the  water,  or  put  in  the  saddle  for  the  first 
time,  would  show  signs  of  fear.  You  ought  there- 
fore never  to  jeer  at  others  for  their  evident 
nervousness  in  doing  what  may  seem  easy  to  you. 
In  some  other  emergency  they  are  likely  to  show 
greater  bravery  than  you,  and  if  it  came  to  a  tight 
place  would  save  the  situation  by  presence  of  mind 
where  you  might  fail.  Never  put  any  one  down  as 
a  funk  because  he  fears  a  thing  you  do  not.  Some 
day  you  will  meet  something  that  frightens  you, 
and  then  you  will  feel  sorry  for  having  laughed  at 
that  other  man. 

The  natural  fear  we  have  of  being  on  horseback  is 
the  first  thing  to  be  overcome,  and  the  only  way  to 
gain  confidence  is  to  ride  an  animal  that  is  absolutely 
quiet.  When  that  confidence  has  once  become 
hrmly  established  you  are  on  the  high-road  to  make 
a  good  rider.  Whether  it  is  for  the  boy  or  the  man 
of  mature  years  who  is  beginning  to  ride,  a  horse 
should  be  selected  that  requires  kicking  along,  and 
one  that  will  not  misbehave  itself  in  any  contin- 
gency which  may  arise.  The  steed  that  is  eager  to 
go  and  wants  controlling,  absorbs  all  the  tyro's 
attention,  so  that  he  has  no  thought  to  spare  for 
his  seat,  and  will  never  reach  the  happy  state  of 
mind  which  is  born  of  perfect  confidence. 

A  riding-school  is  undoubtedly  the  best  place  for 


96  HORSES 

first  lessons,  and  the  beginner  should  learn  there  to 
sit  a  horse  without  reins.  It  is  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance that  a  boy  or  man  should  get  into  the 
habit  of  balancing  himself  without  the  aid  of  reins. 
If  all  riders  were  made  to  go  through  a  course  of 
lessons  on  horseback  without  reins  we  should  have 
many  better  horsemen,  and  the  poor  animals  w^ould 
not  be  tortured  in  the  way  they  frequently  are. 

Some  people  are  quick  to  learn,  and  others  are 
equally  slow,  but  it  is  in  the  power  of  every  one  to 
acquire  a  safe  and  firm  seat  if  they  will  only  take 
the  trouble. 

A  graceful  seat  is  always  a  question  of  taste  or 
opinion,  and  it  is  one  to  which  the  object  should 
never  give  a  thought.  I  do  not  mean  to  infer 
that  a  graceful  horseman  is  not  pleasanter  to  look 
upon  than  an  awkward  one,  but  the  man  himself 
must  never  consider  his  riding  from  that  point  of 
view.  All  he  has  to  learn  is  first  of  all  to  acquire 
a  firm  seat,  and  then  with  increasing  confidence 
the  position  may  become  easy,  but  he  must  leave 
the  outward  appearance  of  his  riding  capabilities  to 
be  judged  by  others,  and  nothing  he  can  do  in  that 
direction  is  likely  to  affect  their  decision. 

A  really  easy  and  graceful  style  is  seldom 
acquired  by  any  one  who  has  not  begun  to  ride  in 
early  life,  but  that  need  never  bother  you,  as  you 
will  get  on  the  back  of  the  horse  for  your  own 
pleasure  and  not  for  that  of  onlookers. 

Those  who  have  not  ridden  much  would  hardly 
believe  the  faculty  a  horse  has  of  understanding  the 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  97 

exact  feelings  of  his  rider,  but  whether  this  is  con- 
veyed by  a  touch  on  the  reins  or  by  the  pressure  of 
the  leg  I  have  never  yet  been  able  to  decide.  You 
may,  however,  be  quite  certain  that  the  animal  is 
fully  aware  of  any  fear  or  nervousness  you  enter- 
tain before  you  know  it  yourself.  This  is  why 
horses  which  are  irreproachable  in  their  behaviour 
with  some  men  will,  when  mounted  by  a  nervous 
individual,  perform  all  kinds  of  disconcerting  antics, 
and  make  themselves  generally  unpleasant. 

This  sympathetic  magnetism,  or  whatever  it  is, 
becomes  a  very  powerful  medium  in  the  hands  of 
a  good  rider,  and  he  is  able  to  convey  his  wishes 
to  the  animal  he  bestrides  as  quickly  as  his  brain 
evolves  them,  whereas  the  bad  or  nervous  rider 
imparts  unconsciously  only  the  fears  he  is  imbued 
with. 

This  is  one  good  reason  why  a  horseman  should 
never  be  vacillating  or  undecided,  but  always  quick 
to  make  up  his  mind.  If  you  do  not  know  your- 
self what  you  want  to  do,  the  horse  will  become 
confused  by  the  chaos  in  your  mind,  and  will 
either  get  frightened  or,  if  strong-willed,  will  assert 
his  superiority  and  ever  afterwards  refuse  to  obey 
you.  Man  must  supply  the  nerve  and  brain  power; 
then,  if  he  has  a  certain  amount  of  experience,  he 
will  find  the  horse  a  willing  servant.  A  horse  with 
a  nervous  man  on  his  back  is  like  a  ship  without 
a  rudder. 

The  horse  is  naturally  a  very  nervous  animal, 
and  therefore  the  person  who  attempts  to  control 

G 


98  HORSES 

him  ought  to  be  particularly  strong  in  that  re- 
spect. I  believe  the  majority  of  horses  like  to 
be  controlled,  and  to  feel  that  the  human  being 
guiding  their  actions  is  one  they  have  confidence 
in  as  well  as  their  respect.  You  must  let  them 
understand  that  you  are  the  master  and  must  be 
obeyed,  but  at  the  same  time  a  master  who  will 
always  be  just,  and  never  administer  punishment 
that  is  undeserved. 

It  is  a  mistaken  kindness  not  to  correct  a  horse 
or  punish  him  when  he  does  wrong,  as  it  is  only 
an  encouragement  to  him  to  continue  in  the  error 
of  his  ways,  and  stronger  measures  will  be  required 
later  on. 

A  man  ought,  how^ever,  to  be  a  fairly  accom- 
plished rider  before  he  attempts  to  coerce  an  un- 
willing horse  by  punishment,  or  any  other  means. 
There  is  one  excellent  rule  I  would  have  you  ever 
bear  in  mind,  and  that  is,  never  strike  a  blow  in 
anger  under  the  excuse  of  correction.  This  rule 
applies  equally  to  those  who  have  the  management 
of  either  children,  horses,  or  dogs. 

When  the  occasion  does  arise,  and  your  horse 
has  to  be  punished,  strike  quick  and  strike  hard. 
Half  measures  are  useless,  and  serve  to  irritate 
rather  than  to  correct. 

Learn  to  use  your  left  hand  as  well  as  the  right. 
Pull  the  horse  up  and  hit  him  whilst  he  is  stand- 
ing, as  he  only  looks  upon  blows  administered 
when  he  is  moving  as  hints  to  go  faster.  Some 
horses   have   naturally    much    thicker    skins   than 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  99 

others,  and  a  blow  that  would  drive  another  mad 
falls  unheeded  on  their  callous  hides.  You  will 
see,  therefore,  that  it  is  impossible  to  make  any 
rule,  and  that  the  man  who  has  the  control 
of  horses  must  exercise  considerable  discretion. 
Thoroughbred  horses  require  more  persuasion  and 
less  whip,  whilst  their  phlegmatic  brethren  with  the 
tinge  of  the  hairy  heel  will  take  a  hiding  without 
resentment. 

In  ordinary  riding  on  well-broken  animals  there 
are  not  many  probabilities  of  getting  falls,  but  if 
you  ride  to  hounds  across  country  you  must  expect 
to  get  down  occasionally.  The  most  unpleasant 
kind  of  tumble  is,  however,  to  be  kicked  off,  and 
though  we  may  all  be  subject  to  this  indignity  at 
some  period  of  our  lives,  we  never  expect  it  to 
happen  after  we  have  passed  the  first  rudiments 
of  riding.  Some  people  can  see  no  difference 
between  the  humiliating  ^'voluntary"  and  the 
honourable  fall  when  the  rider  comes  to  the  ground 
with  his  horse.  Some  one  in  the  hunting-field  may 
have  been  taking  on  an  extra  large-sized  bit  of 
timber,  over  which  he  comes  to  grief,  and  the 
next  day  we  read  in  the  paper,  Mr.  So-and-so  was 
'^  thrown  "  from  his  horse. 

If  you  fall  with  your  horse  over  a  fence,  you 
may  take  no  more  hurt  than  if  knocked  over 
in  the  football-field.  Stick  to  the  saddle  as  long 
as  you  can,  and  when  you  find  the  position  no 
longer  tenable,  roll  yourself  smartly  out  of  the 
way.     Don't  lose  your  head  or  lose  your  hold  of 


100  HORSES 

the  bridle.  By  holding  on  to  the  bridle  you  turn 
the  horse's  head  towards  yourself,  and  therefore 
his  body  farther  away.  There  are  moments  when, 
of  course,  it  is  suicidal  to  cling  on  to  the  reins, 
but  I  should  say  more  bad  accidents  happen  from 
letting  go  than  from  hanging  on.  You  have  also 
no  right  to  cause  your  friend  to  lose  his  place 
with  hounds  by  going  out  of  his  way  to  catch 
your  horse,  which  you  ought  never  to  have 
let  go. 

When  you  feel  fairly  confident  that  the  man 
whose  horse  gallops  by  you  riderless  would  not 
have  let  go  the  reins  if  he  could  help  it,  your 
duty  is  clearly  to  catch  the  animal  at  once.  You 
may  think  it  is  an  infernal  nuisance,  but  like  other 
unpleasant  things  it  must  be  done,  and  you  should 
remember  the  old  adage,  '^  Do  as  you  would  be 
done  by." 

If,  however,  you  are  in  the  front  rank  and 
hounds  are  running  fast,  the  fallen  one  will  forgive 
you  for  not  stopping,  supposing  he  is  not  in  the 
same  field,  as  you  would  then  lose  the  run  without 
benefiting  him.  It  is  a  good  rule  always  to  help 
a  comrade  in  the  hunting-field  when  you  can. 

The  best  men  and  the  best  horses  must  some- 
times come  to  grief  if  they  follow  hounds  over  a 
stiff  country,  but  it  should  be  your  object  to  avoid 
falls  if  possible.  The  fence  is  an  obstacle  between 
you  and  the  pack  which  you  have  to  overcome, 
but  if  you  fall  over  it  the  honours  are  divided 
between  you  and  the  fence.     Do  not  ride  for  a  fall, 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING^  loi 

but  ride  to  get  safely  over,  and  your  confidence  will 
inspire  the  same  feeling  in  the  horse. 

When  there  is  no  other  place,  you  may  some- 
times have  to  negotiate  an  obstacle  that  appears 
well-nigh  impossible  for  any  horse  to  jump,  and 
a  fall  appears  to  be  the  inevitable  result.  You  must 
take  your  chance,  ride  boldly  at  it,  and  hope  for 
the  best.  Always  remember  that  however  bold  a 
horse  may  be  he  is  naturally  a  timid  animal,  and 
most  of  his  courage  is  communicated  to  him  by 
his  rider.  It  is  better  to  get  over  a  fence  with  a 
scramble  and  a  tumble  than  not  to  get  over  at  all. 

Excepting  those  instances  where  the  horse  rolls 
over  you,  the  worst  falls  are  when  you  land  on 
your  head,  and  you  may  be  suffering  from  a  slight 
concussion  without  those  who  pick  you  up  being 
aware  of  it.  Spirits  are  then  the  worst  thing  you 
can  take,  and  many  accidents,  which  would  have 
otherwise  been  attended  with  only  trifling  results, 
have  been  rendered  serious  by  the  ever-ready 
brandy  flask.  Therefore  remember  it  is  a  mistaken 
kindness  to  offer  any  one  who  has  had  a  fall  a 
drink  of  either  wine  or  spirits,  because  you  cannot 
tell  at  the  moment  whether  or  not  he  has  hurt 
his  head.  In  a  case  of  slight  concussion  the  best 
plan  is  to  go  home  and  take  a  dose  of  cooling 
medicine,  a  very  light  meal — bread  and  milk  for 
choice — without  any  spirituous  liquor,  and  get  into 
bed.  The  combined  talent  of  the  whole  medical 
profession  could  not  give  you  better  advice  than 
this. 


I02  HORSES 

I  have  not  yet  ever  purchased  myself  any  of  the 
many  patent  safety-stirrups,  but  nevertheless  I  think 
they  are  excellent  inventions,  and  no  doubt  lessen 
the  risk  of  being  hung  up.  To  have  a  fall  and  to 
find  your  foot  fast  in  the  stirrup  is  a  very  unpleasant 
experience.  I  think  perhaps  it  is  the  most  dan- 
gerous position  in  which  you  can  be  placed  by 
riding  over  fences,  and  anything  that  can  minimise 
the  risk  is  worth  consideration.  Here  again  the 
importance  of  holding  on  to  the  reins  is  manifest, 
for  as  long  as  you  clutch  them  you  can  stop  your 
horse  from  going  far.  When  a  man  gets  hung  up 
by  the  foot  and  loses  his  hold  of  the  reins,  if  the 
horse  is  the  quicker  to  rise  and  moves  on,  he  is 
left  in  a  very  helpless  position,  for  no  exertion  on 
his  part  can  set  him  free.  The  horse  then  gets 
frightened  at  the  dangling  human  form  and  gallops 
away,  kicking  as  he  goes. 

A  horrible  situation  to  contemplate,  but  one  which 
you  need  not  think  about,  if  you  take  proper  care. 
The  foot  will  seldom  stick  fast  if  you  use  big,  heavy 
stirrup-irons,^  and  spurs  with  only  moderately  long 
necks.  I  believe,  in  the  majority  of  cases  where 
people  get  hung  up,  the  long  spur  is  responsible. 
Sometimes  it  gets  caught  in  the  stirrup-leather, 
sometimes  under  the  saddle-flap  on  the  opposite 
side  to  which  you  fall,  and  occasionally  it  becomes 

'  V  1  Through  using  stirrup-irons  too  small  for  me,  I  was  once  dragged, 
after  a  fall,  for  upwards  of  a  hundred  yards.  I  had  the  presence  of 
mind  to  keep  hold  of  the  reins,  and  this  probably  saved  me  from  having 
my  brains  kicked  out. — Ed. 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  103 

hooked  on  to  the  reins.  A  loop  or  becket  on  the 
stirrup-leather  is  an  excellent  preventative  for  avoid- 
ing the  first  of  these  accidents. 

One  of  the  most  unpleasant  tricks  a  horse  can 
have  is  that  of  rearing,  as  the  rider  can  do  nothing 
but  hang  on  to  the  mane.  I  have  before  mentioned 
that  no  boy  or  beginner  should  be  allov^ed  to  ride 
an  animal  unless  it  is  free  from  all  vices,  but  some 
day  you  may  be  mounted  on  a  horse  that  gets  up 
on  its  hind  legs,  and  it  is  as  well  for  you  to  know 
what  to  do  in  such  an  emergency. 

The  instinct  of  self-preservation  prompts  you  to 
clutch  the  reins  in  order  to  avoid  slipping  out  of 
the  saddle,  but  instinct  in  this  case  would  lead  you 
into  further  trouble.  If,  when  the  horse  is  balanc- 
ing on  its  hind  feet,  you  pull  on  the  reins,  you  must 
pull  him  over  backwards  and  very  likely  on  top 
of  you. 

You  must  get  it  impressed  on  your  mind  that 
if  a  horse  rears,  your  first  action  is  to  drop  the 
reins  and  hold  on  by  the  mane,  the  saddle,  or  even 
put  your  arms  round  his  neck,  but  let  the  reins 
go  at  once. 

I  have  known  first-rate  hunters,  afflicted  with  a 
httle  twist  in  the  temper,  that  would,  on  occasions 
of  ill-humour  or  annoyance,  rear  straight  up  on 
end,  to  the  confusion  and  discomfiture  of  their 
riders.  If  you  happen  to  own  one  of  this  descrip- 
tion, you  will  find  it  a  good  plan  to  have  a  loose 
strap  on  the  neck,  which  you  can  hold  on  by 
directly  he  commences  his  tricks. 


104  HORSES 

My  very  kind  and  patient  editor,  when  he  asked 
me  to  write  this  book/  said  it  was  to  be  for  boys, 
but  made  no  mention  of  girls.  Nearly  all  I  have 
written  here  is,  however,  quite  as  applicable  to  the 
one  as  to  the  other,  and  though  I  have  written 
chiefly  to  a  boy,  I  hope  his  sister  will  find  the  hints 
I  have  given  are  useful  to  her  also. 

All  girls  ought  to  learn  to  sit  astride  of  a  horse, 
and  it  would  be  better  for  them  if  they  never  rode 
in  a  side-saddle  until  they  were  over  fifteen.  The 
unnatural  position  in  which  a  side-saddle  puts  a 
woman  must  be  bad  for  the  adult,  but  it  must  be 
positively  injurious  to  the  health  of  a  growing 
girl. 

There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  discussion  on  this 
subject,  and  without  any  satisfactory  result,  but  1 
am  not  going  to  re-open  it  now.  In  all  probability, 
before  we  get  to  the  end  of  this  century  the  side- 
saddle will  become  as  out  of  date  as  a  sedan  chair. 
Doctors  and  fathers  may  go  on  talking  to  the  end 
of  the  chapter,  but  unless  a  costume  can  be  con- 
trived which  a  woman  considers  is  becoming,  she 
will  never  adopt  a  man's  method  of  riding. 

However,  I  am  here  addressing  myself  to  the 
young  girl,  who  is  too  sensible  to  worry  about  how 
she  looks.  If  you  have  plenty  of  brothers  at  home 
and  some  friends  in  the  district,  you  should  get  your 
parents  to  organise  a  boy  and  girl  polo  club.     The 

^  I  certainly  have  never  been  concerned  in  a  book  written  with  more 
sincerity  and  knowledge  of  the  subject  than  these  chapters  by  Mr.  J. 
Otho  Paget.— Ed. 


RIDING   AND    DRIVING  105 

ponies  should  not  be  over  thirteen  hands  ;  the  ball 
should  be  rubber-covered,  and  the  sticks  light.  You 
might  have  lots  of  fun  in  this  way,  and  it  would 
improve  your  riding  more  than  anything.  The 
excitement  of  the  game  would  make  you  forget 
about  riding,  when  you  would  lose  fear  and  gain 
confidence. 

There  is  one  advantage  in  a  side-saddle,  and  that 
is,  when  a  woman  has  learnt  to  ride  in  it  she  feels 
so  secure  that,  unlike  a  man,  she  does  not  want 
to  balance  herself  by  the  reins.  This  is  the  chief 
reason  why  the  majority  of  women  have  better 
"  hands "  than  men ;  that  and  perhaps  a  greater 
delicacy  of  touch,  combined  with  a  knowledge  of 
their  own  want  of  muscular  power. 

Whilst  the  fashion  still  remains  for  a  woman  to 
sit  sideways,  it  is  as  well  not  to  be  different  from 
every  one  else,  and  you  must  try  to  acquire  a  good 
seat.  Sit  in  the  middle  of  the  saddle,  and  let  your 
weight  fall  directly  over  the  horse's  backbone.  The 
slightest  bearing  to  one  side  or  the  other  will  give 
him  a  sore  back.  The  saddle  should  not  be  higher 
over  the  withers  than  it  is  anywhere  else,  or  by 
raising  your  knee  it  will  give  you  an  ugly  seat. 
Some  very  good  riders  ride  with  the  left  leg  per- 
fectly straight,  but  I  do  not  quite  understand  how 
they  can  have  a  firm  seat.  A  woman's  grip  depends 
on  the  pommel  and  the  stirrup.  She  must  press 
down  with  her  foot  on  the  stirrup  and  upwards 
with  her  leg  against  the  pommel,  thereby  getting 
a    very    strong    leverage,    which,    when    properly 


io6  HORSES 

understood,  will  hold  her  safely  in  the  saddle 
however  much  the  horse  may  kick. 

The  left  leg  from  below  the  knee  should  hang 
straight  down,  and,  except  when  it  is  necessary  to 
take  a  strong  grip,  it  should  not  quite  touch  the 
pommel.  See  that  your  heel  does  not  touch  the 
horse's  ribs  and  irritate  him. 

A  woman  ought  always  to  sit  straight  in  the 
saddle,  and  if  she  is  feeling  tired  she  had  better  go 
home  ;  but  if  she  ever  allows  herself  to  loll,  she  will 
become  an  eyesore  to  her  friends,  and  a  saddle-sore 
to  her  horse.  First  of  all  you  have  to  learn  to  sit 
plumb  in  the  middle  of  the  saddle,  and  after  that  you 
can  get  into  the  way  of  sitting  there  easily,  without 
stiffness  and  without  poking  your  head.  You  will 
have  to  be  an  extraordinarily  bad  rider  if  you  cannot 
find  one  man  to  admire  your  style  of  riding,  and 
extraordinarily  good  if  you  hope  to  evade  the  criti- 
cism of  your  own  sex.  Beyond  these  few  hints, 
which  are  alone  applicable  to  girls,  my  advice  to 
boys  holds  good  for  both. 


PART  II.— GUNS 

By   GEORGE   A.   B.   DEWAR 


CHAPTER  I 

BEGINNING  TO  SHOOT  :  AND  THE  MANAGEMENT 

OF  THE  GUN 


What  has  become  of  the  gun  the  gardener's  boy 
used  to  shoot  the  poll-jays  with  when  they  came 
after  the  peas  ?  It  was  the  first  gun  I  fired  off. 
It  seems  a  long  time  since  the  days  of  that  gun. 
When  you  think  of  such  days  and  try  to  tell  of 
them,  it  is  hard  to  help  writing  in  such  a  way  that 
people  may  be  led  to  suppose  you  are  quite  old.    It 


109 


no  GUNS 

is  possible  to  be  quite  young,  to  feel  even  younger 
than  you  actually  are,  until  you  go  back  to  the 
first  rabbit  you  snared  or  shot,  the  first  blackbird's 
nest  you  knew  of,  the  first  butterfly  you  netted  ; 
then  you  do  begin  to  feel  a  little  antique.  So 
many  things  have  happened  since  then,  so  many 
fresh  interests  have  come  crowding  into  a  man's 
life,  so  many  new  friends  made,  and — that  it  should 
be  so  ! — so  many  old  friends  lost.  I  have  a  wretched 
memory  for  many  things,  but  that  first  gun  is  un- 
forgetable.  It  was  unquestionably  Brummagem. 
It  was  a  single-barrel,  a  long  barrel  that  was  not 
by  any  means  straight.  A  friend,  whom  I  was 
telling  about  this  gun  the  other  day,  said,  ''  By 
Jove  !  not  straight  ?  I  shouldn't  have  cared  to 
shoot  with  it.  How  was  it  that  it  didn't  burst?" 
Frankly,  I  should  not  care  to  let  that  gun  off 
to-day,  unless  I  were  to  see  a  shot  or  two  fired 
safely  with  it  by  somebody  else  just  before.  But 
that  is  because  I  have  since  grown  quite  accus- 
tomed to  straight  barrels  made  of  harder  material. 
The  gun  was  safe  enough  when  properly  loaded, 
and  its  killing  power  was  remarkable  when  you 
held  it  straight.  Of  course  it  was  a  muzzle-loader. 
In  our  parts  breech-loaders  were  by  no  means 
general  then.  My  tutor  used  to  hire  a  pin-fire 
breech-loader  then,  and  pot  rabbits  with  it  as  they 
sat  out  in  the  rides  in  summer  nibbling  the  grass. 
The  pin-fire,  I  should  say,  is  deader  to-day  by  far 
than  the  old  muzzle-loader ;  it  had,  perhaps,  one 
advantage — it  was  very  easy  to  tell  when   it  was 


BEGINNING   TO   SHOOT  iii 

loaded.  Now  it  was  sometimes  rather  a  nice  point 
whether  or  not  the  keeper's  muzzle-loader  was 
charged.  If  at  the  end  of  the  day  there  remained 
a  charge  in  the  gun,  this  was  commonly  not 
drawn  ;  the  trigger  was  gently  let  down  upon  the 
cap,  and  the  gun  hung  up  or  set  in  a  corner.  So, 
until  you  had  pulled  back  the  trigger  of  the  muzzle- 
loader  in  the  corner,  you  might  not  be  able  to  tell 
for  sure  whether  it  was  loaded  or  not.  Cases  did 
occur,  moreover,  in  which  the  cap  was  removed  and 
the  charge  left  undrawn,  and  then  you  might  only 
be  able  to  say  for  certain  whether  the  gun  were 
loaded  or  unloaded  by  probing  with  the  ramrod. 

Hence  accidents  occurred  from  time  to  time — 
to  put  it  mildly — with  these  old  guns.  There  was 
the  case  of  one  man  in  our  parts  who  loaded  or 
unloaded  without  taking  the  cap  off  the  nipple — 
gamekeepers,  for  instance,  had  often  a  great  ob- 
jection to  wasting  a  good  cap — the  gun  ^^went  off," 
and  sent  the  ramrod  through  the  centre  of  his 
hand.  On  the  whole  the  old  muzzle-loader  in  the 
corner  of  the  parlour  of  a  neighbouring  farmer — 
an  old  friend  of  mine  whom  I  shall  speak  more  of 
presently — was  a  thing  to  handle  circumspectly. 
Once  it  had  been  in  its  corner,  loaded,  for  many 
weeks.  At  length  it  was  taken  out  in  view  of  a 
day's  shooting.  The  question  was  what  would 
happen  when  it  was  fired  ?  I  have  a  dim  recollec- 
tion that  somebody  fastened  it  into  a  gate  and 
pulled  a  bit  of  string  attached  to  the  trigger — a 
precaution  against  a  possible  bursting  of  the  barrel. 


112  GUNS 

Then  there  was  the  second  gun  I  shot  with. 
The  first,  as  related,  was  a  single-barrel,  and  I 
seem  to  remember  that  it  passed  hands  for  about 
thirty  shillings  about  the  time  of  my  acquaintance 
with  it.  The  second  was  a  double-barrel,  belong- 
ing to  the  gamekeeper  whom  my  brother  employed 
when  he  wanted  a  more  active  man  than  our  old 
family  retainer,  who  had  long  filled  the  place,  to 
rear  the  pheasants.  It  was  altogether  a  more  im- 
portant weapon,  and  I  found  it  rather  heavy.  I 
believe  I  potted  a  rabbit  or  two  with  that  gun  when 
the  keeper  would  let  me  have  some  shots.  Once 
or  twice  I  enticed  the  keeper  to  let  me  have  a  few 
shots  at  ferreted  rabbits.  But,  after  I  had  missed 
two  or  three  rabbits  bolted  by  the  ferret,  he  grew 
impatient,  and  talked  about  wasting  time  and 
powder.  My  impression  is  I  did  not  get  much 
sport  out  of  that  gun.  It  was  better  fun  using 
the  saloon  pistol,  but  the  wonder  now  is  how  we 
never  did  grievous  injury  to  somebody  with  that 
pistol.  As  we  never  seemed  to  go  near  hitting 
birds  on  the  trees  or  sitting  rabbits  with  the  saloon 
pistol,  we  grew  quite  careless  in  using  it.  It  was 
not  bad  fun  putting  a  bullet  now  and  then  through 
the  lead  of  the  tower  which  held  the  bell  over 
the  stables  :  you  could  see  the  little  round  hole 
the  bullets  made  there,  and  there  was  some  satis- 
faction in  this. 

Before  we  leave  the  muzzle-loading  guns  of  my 
boyhood,  a  word  as  to  ammunition  and  method 
of    loading.      There    is    no    doubt    that    the    old 


BEGINNING   TO    SHOOT  113 

powder-flask  was  rather  an  ingenious  contrivance  ; 
the  sound  of  the  shot  rattling  down  the  barrels,  too, 
was  attractive.  Wads  were  quite  in  the  nature  of 
luxuries.  We  used  to  load  with  scraps  of  news- 
paper, white  or  brown,  in  place  of  wads,  whilst,  at 
a  pinch,  leaves,  green  or  dead,  would  serve. 

These  experiences  with  the  muzzle-loaders  belong 
to  very  early  gunning  days — to  the  time  when  I 
could  only  expect  a  stray  shot  now  and  then,  and 
when  the  gardener's  boy  was  not  weeding  rather 
than  poll-jay-openly  or  rabbit-on-the-sly  shooting, 
or  when  the  keeper  was  in  a  good-natured  mood. 
They  are  odds  and  ends  pertaining  perhaps  more 
to  the  bird-nesting  and  the  catapulting  period  than 
to  the  gunpowder  and  shot.  I  did  not,  as  it  were, 
graduate  a  gunner  till  a  year  or  two  later,  when  my 
brother  got  a  new  central-fire  breech-loader, and  gave 
his  old  one  to  me.  Then  all  at  once  I  was  fairly  in 
the  thick  of  it.  My  gun  was  a  twelve-bore  central- 
fire  with  rebounding  hammers,  which — being  short 
of  ready  money — I  parted  with  long  before  it  was 
worn  out. 

I  used  to  take  that  gun  about  with  me  to  places, 
and  at  times  when  there  was  little  chance  of  shoot- 
ing. I.  took  it  to  college,  for  instance,  and  kept  it 
proudly  in  my  rooms.  It  was  only  used  twice 
there,  and  neither  occasion  redounded  in  the  least 
to  my  credit.  Once  after  dark,  for  a  lark,  I  fired  it 
between  quads — pointing  well  up  into  the  air  of 
course,  in  the  direction  of  Christ  Church  Meadows 
— the  idea  of  myself   and   my  conspirators  being 

H 


114  GUNS 

to  'Mraw"  the  ''dons."  It  made  a  fearful  noise 
among  the  stone  buildings,  and  the  smoke  from  the 
black  powder  hung  about  suspiciously  near  my 
rooms ;  but  curiously  enough  no  don  would  be 
drawn  that  night.  The  other  time  I  used  it  was 
at  a  trap  shooting-match,  and  very  feeble  sport 
that  was  :  you  don't  care  for  sport  with  captive 
creatures  ;  it  is  not  the  real  thing. 

At  the  time  I  got  this  gun  I  was  at  home,  and 
being  coached  by  a  tutor  who  lived  about  five  miles 
away.  To  him  I  used  to  ride  most  days  in  the 
week.  On  my  return  home  each  day  I  generally 
found  there  was  enough  daylight  left  for  me  to  get 
my  gun  and  cartridges  and  hurry  into  the  woods 
after  rabbits  or  wood-pigeons.  The  rides  to  and  fro 
between  my  woodland  home  and  my  tutor's  form 
together  one  of  the  loneliest  passages  of  my  life. 
Many  boys  would  no  doubt  jump  at  such  a  chance 
of  horseback  exercise,  but  on  my  return  in  the  after- 
noons my  chief  desire  was  generally  to  get  home  as 
quickly  as  possible,  so  as  to  lose  no  more  shooting 
time  than  could  be  prevented.  And  riding  came 
perhaps  to  be  connected  overmuch  with  book  work, 
and  so  somewhat  to  lose  the  place  it  earlier  had  in 
my  boy  affections. 

In  those  days  I  was  shooting  chiefly  in  the  woods, 
though  we  had  some  very  fair  partridge-shooting 
two  miles  or  so  from  home,  which  on  and  off  I  went 
in  for  from  September  to  the  last  day  in  the  season. 
Rabbiting  was  our  mainstay  at  home,  and  is  to  this 
day.     I  am  in  the  middle  of  a  rabbit-shooting  week 


BEGINNING   TO   SHOOT  115 

as  I  write  now,  the  daily  party  consisting  of  one 
gun — myself — a  gamekeeper  and  four  dogs  (two 
terriers  and  two  spaniels),  and  am  every  bit  as 
keen  on  the  sport  to-day  as  when  I  handled  my 
first  breech-loader. 

Much  of  my  early  shooting  was  in  the  nature  of 
a  solitary  sport.  This  had  its  advantages  and  its 
drawbacks.  Sporting  constantly  without  a  com- 
panion, you  have  probably  not  quite  the  stimulus 
which  the  natural  and  wholesome  competition  of  a 
companion  of  about  your  own  age  will  give.  Pro- 
bably I  should  have  excelled  more  in  the  gun  if  I  had 
been  often  matched,  as  it  were,  against  a  friendly 
rival  of  my  own  standing.  I  had  fame  as  a  rabbit 
shot — strictly  a  local  fame,  be  it  understood — when 
a  youngster.  Gamekeepers,  gardeners'  boys,  and 
folk  generally  about  the  place  declared,  after  I  had 
shot  for  a  season  or  two,  that  I  was  ^^just  about  a 
one  to  cut  them  (i.e.  rabbits)  over."  This  tradition 
took  root,  and  to  this  day  strangers  are  wont  to  ac- 
cost me  as  a  strong  performer  with  the  gun.  They 
should  see  me  some  days  when  I  am  just  behind  or 
just  over — it  is  much  more  often  behind  than  over 
— rabbit  after  rabbit :  when  rabbits  going  across, 
offering  perfect  broadside  shots,  rabbits  going 
straight  away,  rabbits  coming  towards  the  gun, 
alike  seem  so  very  hard  to  stop.  Emulation  might 
well  have  made  me  a  better  performer.  It  would 
possibly  have  helped  to  prevent  me  growing  into  a 
shy  shot.  Thanks  largely  no  doubt  to  the  spirit  of 
emulation,  I  learned  to  play  billiards  and  pyramids 


ii6  GUNS 

*'  to  a  gallery  "  ;  far  and  away  the  best  games  I  have 
played  have  been  in  the  semi-final  and  final  rounds 
of  tournaments  and  handicaps.  But  shooting  I  do 
better  when  I  am  my  own  critic.  However,  there 
are  compensations.  An  Englishman,  whose  views 
in  many  things  inspire  conviction,  said  to  me  that 
a  spirit  of  competition,  if  it  entered  into  his  angling, 
would  mar  his  enjoyment ;  that  a  feeling  of  inde- 
pendence, or  complete  indifference  as  to  whether 
some  other  angler  on  the  same  water  made  better 
baskets  of  trout,  was  necessary  to  such  enjoyment. 
There  is  wiseness  in  this.  To  be  able  to  shoot  or 
angle  the  entire  day,  without  the  least  thought  of 
whether  or  not  we  are  likely  to  be  beat  by  some 
other  gunner  or  fisherman,  and  yet  to  enjoy  one's 
successes  and  regret  one's  failures  keenly — this  is 
proof  that  we  are  doing  the  thing  for  the  sheer 
love  of  it ;  that  there  is  in  us  that  enthusiasm  which 
we  should  bring  to  bear  on  all  we  undertake  in  life, 
business  and  pleasure  alike. 

I  have  described  my  early  shooting  as  being  in 
the  nature  of  a  solitary  sport.  A  gamekeeper,  or 
some  *'  odd  hand "  employed  on  the  place,  who 
might  volunteer  to  come  out  and  carry  game  and 
beat  for  an  hour  or  two,  scarcely  counts  in  this 
connection.  It  is  true  that  soon  after  beginning  I 
was  able,  if  I  liked,  to  get  up  occasional  shooting- 
parties,  composed  of  a  few  farmers  and  others  in 
the  district  who  could  shoot,  and  who  moreover 
could  bring  a  dog  or  two  ;  and  great  fun  those  jolly, 
unconventional  parties  used  to  be.     How  we|  were 


BEGINNING   TO    SHOOT  117 

wont  to  cut  short  the  luncheon  of  bread  and  cheese 
and  beer,  and  what  zest  there  was  in  the  wood- 
cock shilHng  sweepstake  !  What  ardent  sportsmen 
would  some  of  tlie  farmers  turn  out  to  be,  whom 
ordinarily  you  might  have  taken  to  be  men  who 
cared  for  nought  but  turnips  and  dung  !  And  one 
did  feel  so  important,  so  large,  as  the  originator  of 
those  shooting-parties,  as  the  general  who  decided 
what  the  strategy  should  be.  Farmers,  however, 
cannot  shoot  every  day ;  keepers  must  be  look- 
ing to  their  wires,  watching  poachers,  trapping 
vermin ;  gardeners'  boys  must  mainly  weed.  So 
that  far  more  often  it  was  a  solitary  shoot.  Nearly 
always  taking  with  me  two  light  spaniels,  far  from 
finely  bred  dogs,  but  capital  rabbiters,  and  quite 
equal  to  winding  and  putting  up  a  woodcock  or  a 
skulking  hen  pheasant — the  cock  birds,  particularly 
the  older  ones,  were  inveterate  runners  in  the 
higher  wood — I  would  choose  now  the  young  wood 
of  a  few  years'  growth,  now  the  blackthorn  thickets 
and  rows  on  the  common,  now  the  scattered  furze- 
bushes,  sometimes  even  the  high  wood  of  from  eight 
or  nine  to  fourteen  years'  growth,  where  in  those 
days  one  generally  managed  to  fall  in  with  a  hare 
or  two,  which  have  come  to  be  so  scarce  latterly  in 
our  parts. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  solitary  expeditions  that 
I  got  my  first  woodcock ;  he  rose  from  some 
dead  bracken  which  had  not  yet  been  beaten 
to  the  ground  by  frost  and  snow  of  winter  :  it 
seemed   too   good  to  be   true    when   he   fell  dead 


ii8  GUNS 

in  the  open.  Some  may  say  that  there  is  not  in 
shooting  with  the  sporting  gun,  at  any  rate  shoot- 
ing in  England,  a  sensation  equal,  in  the  pleasure 
it  yields,  to  a  perfectly  successful  stroke  with  the 
cricket  bat,  or  the  golf  driver  or  brassey.  The 
gratification  you  experience  as  you  put  your  hand 
over  your  eye  on  a  bright  day  to  watch  the  soar- 
ing flight  of  the  little  white  ball,  till  it  falls  just  in 
the  right  line  a  hundred  and  sixty  or  a  hundred  and 
eighty  yards  away,  is  certainly  ample  ;  and  when 
the  right  spot  exactly  in  the  bat — even  the  veriest 
bungler  wdth  the  bat  has  felt  this  —  meets  the 
cricket  ball,  it  does  impart  to  you  a  sensation 
worth  lingering  over  in  thought.  Now  a  hard 
shot  clearly  and  neatly  brought  off  may  possibly 
not  be  quite  equal  in  the  satisfaction  it  yields 
— given  a  golfer  and  a  gunner  equal  in  keenness 
over  their  respective  pursuits  —  to  the  perfectly 
successful  drive ;  for  one  thing  it  is  over  sooner ; 
there  is  nothing  here  which  quite  corresponds 
to  that  serene  watching  of  the  ball  as  it  soars 
from  your  smite.  Mind  I  only  say  **  possibly," 
for  are  there  not  pretty  shots  brought  off  in  the 
face  of  diificulties,  that  are  remembered  years 
afterwards  ?  You  will  be  able,  very  likely,  twenty 
years  hence,  not  only  to  remember,  but  even  to 
point  out  the  exact  spot  where  you  brought  off 
a  hard  right  and  left  at  birds  or  at  rabbits — these 
latter,  by  the  way,  do  not  nearly  so  often,  in 
most  places,  yield  right  and  left  shots  as  partridges, 
pheasants,    or   grouse ;    but    when    they    do,    the 


BEGINNING   TO   SHOOT  itg 

sport  is  truly  stimulating.  And  many  single  shots 
will  in  like  manner  have  a  place  in  your  life's 
sporting  memories. 

The  shots  missed  altogether  or  only  half  done, 
they  are  as  the  foozled  strokes  at  golf,  only  one 
may  recall  them  longer  and  with  slightly  more 
regret.  The  memory  of  sport,  indeed,  forms  no 
small  part  of  the  joy  of  it.  The  pleasure  is  not 
over  when  you  put  by  the  gun  for  the  season,  even 
for  the  rest  of  your  life.  It  is  delightful  to  dwell 
in  less  active  moments  on  scenes  and  incidents  in 
past  shooting-days,  to  exchange  sporting  gossip 
and  anecdote  with  the  boon  companion.  Colonel 
Hawker,  the  master  of  the  old  school  of  shooters 
in  England  who  wrote  on  their  sport,  must  have 
rejoiced  in  the  writing  of  his  sterling  book,  '^  In- 
structions to  Young  Shooters,"  though  he  allowed 
himself  little  enough  of  sentiment ;  and  in  books 
of  to-day,  such  as  Sydney  Buxton's  *'  Fishing  and 
Shooting,"  the  joy  that  lives  in  the  sporting  memory 
must  be  felt  by  every  reader. 

We  were  saying  that  there  were  compensations 
for  the  lonely  shooter,  and  memory  recalls  the  fact 
that  being  so  often  solitary  made  me  the  readier, 
during  these  sporting  expeditions  in  woods  and 
on  farm  lands,  to  improve  my  acquaintance  with 
Nature.  You  need  not  by  any  means  be  unobser- 
vant of  natural  beauties  and  natural  history  because 
you  are  a  member  of  a  shooting  party,  and  are 
enjoying  the  good  fellow-  and  companion-ship  that 
go  so  well  with  a  sport  like  shooting.     But,  with- 


1^0  GUNS 

out  any  disrespect  to  such  gatherings,  often  as 
lively  in  their  way  as  fox-hunting  ones,  one  may 
say  safely  that  Nature,  in  wood  and  wild,  has  a 
shy  way  of  disclosing  her  full  beauty  rather  to  those 
who  roam  alone  than  to  those  who  are  a  jocund 
company.  So  these  quiet  shoots  in  the  coppice 
and  in  the  fields  of  autumn,  down  in  the  oozy 
marsh  and  high  on  the  wind-swept  heath,  are  very 
favouring  to  those  who  want  to  keep  in  touch 
with  Nature  as  well  as  to  enjoy  to  the  full  the 
use  of  the  gun.  For  myself,  I  have  found  shoot- 
ing in  this  respect  only  less  favourable  than  trout- 
fishing.  It  helped  me  as  a  boy  to  recognise 
that  even  the  days  in  winter,  which  we  are  wont 
to  call  dreary,  are  never  without  charm  for 
those  who  are  not  distressed  by  rain  or  mist  or 
snow.  I  have  gone  out  with  my  gun  when  the 
snow  has  lain  more  than  a  foot  deep,  and  when  the 
tops  of  the  high  hedges  against  which  it  has  drifted 
have  been  all  but  hid  ;  when  there  has  been  a  con- 
tinuous downpour  all  day  long  ;  when  a  heavy  cold 
mist  or  fog  has  made  the  cock  pheasants  crow, 
and  so  confused  the  flocks  of  wood-pigeons,  that 
they  have  flown  towards  me  when  I  have  suddenly 
come  upon  them.  I  have  been  chilled,  and  chapt, 
and  soaked  to  the  skin,  and  my  boots  have  been 
water-logged  and  snow-logged — my  boots  when 
I  first  shot  always  did  let  in  the  water  somehow 
— and  I  can  honestly  say  I  have  thoroughly  en- 
joyed myself  on  such  occasions,  and  seen  many 
beautiful  things.     Why,  Sir    Edward  Grey  in  his 


BEGINNING   TO   SHOOT  121 

angling  book  says  that  when  soaked  to  the  skin  by 
rain,  one  enjoys  a  feeling  of  intimacy  with  Nature  ! 
Who  would  not  sometimes  be  soaked  ?  It  is  then 
you  may  feel  a  little  of  the  elemental  man  in  you. 
And  how,  if  you  always  were  to  run  away  from  the 
elements  and  keep  dry  indoors,  could  you  grow 
hardy  and  seasoned?  It  is  part  of  the  business 
of  the  British  boy  to  lay  in  such  a  store  of  hardi- 
ness as  shall  serve  him  well  in  later  life.  It  is  not 
the  least  thing  that  can  be  said  for  shooting,  that 
when  taken  up  early  in  life,  it  does  in  many  cases 
help  to  give  a  man  the  toughness  and  endurance 
which  almost  may  be  called  a  virtue. 

I  have  touched  on  the  danger  of  the  old- 
fashioned  muzzle-loader.  Let  me  now  give  you 
some  advice  as  to  how  to  avoid  accidents  when 
handling  the  guns  of  to-day.  Our  modern  guns 
are  safer  to  handle  than  were  our  ancestors'. 
Yet  most  seasons  we  read  or  hear  of  some 
grisly  mishap  out  shooting.  With  few  excep- 
tions these  accidents,  like  the  fatal  adventures  of 
Alpine  climbers,  are  the  results  of  ignorance  or  of 
downright  wanton  carelessness.  I  have  had  more 
than  twenty  years'  experience  of  rough  shooting  in 
very  thick  places,  where  one  often  loses  sight  of 
one's  neighbours,  and  yet  it  is  my  strong  feeling 
that  accidents  even  here  always  can  be  avoided  by 
great  care  :  and  how  shall  we  describe  the  conduct 
of  the  man  who  does  not  exercise  great  care  out 
shooting  ?     1  have  seen  a  few  lesser  accidents  in 


122  GUNS 

covert  shooting,  and  the  feeHng  they  give  one  is 
of  a  sickening  character.  I  can  just  recollect — at 
the  time  I  was  but  a  very  small  spectator — one 
accident  in  which  tragedy  and  comedy  were 
perilously  near  to  being  mingled.  We  had  one  or 
two  white  pheasants — freaks  or  varieties — among 
the  birds  reared  and  turned  out  into  the  ^'  shoots."  ^ 

My   old   friend    D n,  a  good-hearted,    peppery 

farmer  near  by,  who  later  was  often  my  shooting 
companion,  was  anxious  to  get  one  of  these  birds  : 
no  doubt  he  thought  it  would  look  well  in  a  glass 
case  in  his  parlour  next  to  the  stuffed  green  wood- 
pecker ;  there  was  a  gentleman  out  with  us  on  that 
ist  of  October,  who  wore  a  tall  white  or  grey  hat. 
Suddenly,  just  after  a  shot  had  been  fired,  this 
gentleman  ducked.  Presently  asked  why,  he  replied 
that  his  object  was  to  avoid  a  possible  second 
barrel.     It  turned  out  that  some  shots  had  actually 

passed  through  the  white  hat.      D n  was  well 

known  as  a  somewhat  explosive  gunner  ;  nobody 
doubted  that  he  had  taken  the  white  hat  for  a  white 
pheasant,    and    fired   accordingly.      At   lunch    the 

affair  was  mentioned,  and  Colonel  E put  the 

wise  question  to  the  owner  of  the  injured  hat — 
who  chanced  to  be  a  doctor — ''  Now,  must  those 
few  shot  have  proved  fatal  if  they  had  passed 
through    your   head  ? "      I    have    wondered,    since 

poor  old  D n  passed  away,  how  in  the  world 

we  could  ever  have  borne  him  out  shooting.  He 
was  an  extremely  bad  shot,  and,  when  he  could  not 

^  "  Shoots"  are  young  underwood  of  only  a  few  years'  growth. 


BEGINNING   TO    SHOOT  123 

bag  anything,  would  lose  his  temper  and  even  order 
the  keeper  to  take  and  smash  his  gun  to  bits. 
Fortunately  he  often  lost  his  spectacles  in  the 
thickets,    and    would    stay    behind    searching    for 

them.     D n  was  a  man  to  give  a  wide   berth 

to.  He  had  shot  various  dogs  in  his  day.  It  is 
horrid  to  hear  the  shot  of  the  reckless  gunner 
rattle  in  the  underwood  about  one.  The  reck- 
less gunner  reminds  one  of  the  reckless  jester ; 
the  latter  will  not  let  his  best  friend  stand  between 
himself  and  his  witticism  ;  the  reckless  gunner  will 
not  spare  his  best  friend  if  the  latter  stands  between 
him  and  the  rabbit. 

Some  people  are  too  amiably  disposed  towards 
the  reckless  gunner.  The  story  of  the  beater  who 
casually  remarked  to  another  beater,  ^^  Lord,  how 
that  gentleman  there  do  put  it  into  my  gaiters  ! " 
is  almost  typical  of  the  countryman  who  bears 
gladly  with  the  gun  fool.  There  are  people  who 
really  seem  to  think  that  a  little  peppering  is  all 
in  the  day's  sport :  it  is  easier  to  understand  the 
temper  of  the  man  who,  on  being  peppered, 
ordered  the  gunner  who  fired  that  shot  to  hold 
up  his  hand,  with  the  object  of  inflicting  condign 
punishment  on  the  offender. 

Rabbit-shooting  in  thick  places,  where  the  mem- 
bers of  the  line  cannot  see  one  another  by  any 
means  always,  and  where  the  line  itself  must  often 
tend  to  become  irregular,  necessitates  great  care  on 
the  part  of  every  gun.  Make  an  absolutely  hard 
and  fast  rule  of  never  shooting  down  the  line,  even 


124  GUNS 

though  you  are  morally  sure  from  the  nature  of 
the  ground  that  your  charge  will  not   scatter   or 
glance.     Get  into  the  way  of  keeping  yourself  well 
informed  as  to  the  position  of  your  right-hand  and 
left-hand  neighbours  when  you  are  slowly  advanc- 
ing with  beaters  or  dogs,  or  both,  in  a  line  intended 
to  be  as  regular  as  possible.     Though,  in  rabbit- 
shooting  in  thick  woods  and  commons,  the  bulk 
of    every   charge    may   safely    enter    the    ground, 
especially  when  the  ground  is  soft  and  covered  by 
decaying  dead  leaves — the   nearer  you  are  to  the 
rabbit  (and  I  take  it  that  the  majority  of  rabbits  in 
thick  cover  are  killed  at  from,  say,  fifteen  to  five- 
and-twenty  yards)  the  likelier  is  this  to  occur — you 
must  never  forget  the  glance  shot.     Though  some  of 
the  force  of  this  shot  will  necessarily  be  spent  when 
it  glances,  it  can  do  grave,  even  the  gravest,  harm. 
I  have  been  stung  by  several  glance  shot  myself, 
and,  much  worse  than  that,  a  glance  shot  from  a 
charge  fired  by  myself  did,  I  cannot  with  courtesy 
doubt,  once  touch  a  neighbour.     I  shot  at  a  rabbit 
which  could  not  have  been  in  a  line  with  my  neigh- 
bour, yet  he  called   out  that  somebody  had  shot 
him.     I  was  in  the  thick,  he  in  the  open.     I  ran 
out,  half   incredulous  and  half   sick  with    horror. 
Infinitely  relieved,  I  found  him  upright,  more  ex- 
cited than  hurt.     He  believed  he  had  been  hit  in 
the  thigh.     It  was  a  matter  of  a  single  glance  shot, 
so  I  gathered  ;    but  I  hope   I   am  right  in  saying 
that — like  the  glance  shot  which  once  struck  me 
also  on  the  thigh,  some  of  which  I  found  in  my 


BEGINNING   TO    SHOOT  125 

sock  at  night  when  I  undressed — it  did  not  pierce 
the  skin. 

As  to  keeping  yourself  informed  where  the  two 
guns  on  either  side  of  you  are,  it  is  not,  of  course, 
always  easy.  When  my  brother  and  I  are  shooting 
alone  we  constantly,  by  calling,  keep  in  touch  with 
each  other  in  thick  covert ;  and,  to  some  extent, 
this  is  practicable  where  there  are  more  guns  than 
two.  It  has,  no  doubt,  this  disadvantage  :  game, 
furred  and  feathered,  will  often  hear  one's  voice 
and  avoid  one.  This  is  especially  the  case  in 
rabbit -shooting  with  dogs.  In  walking  through 
the  covert  you  stop  now  and  then  at  favourable 
open  spots,  and  wait  in  order  to  get  a  clear  shot  at 
a  rabbit,  which,  pressed  by  the  dogs,  will  very  likely 
cross  there.  After  long  experience  of  a  wood  or 
common  you  come  to  know  all  the  best  spots  to 
take  your  stand  at  when  the  dogs  are  giving  tongue. 
It  goes  against  the  grain,  having  reached  such  a 
spot,  to  call  even  in  a  low  voice  to  your  neighbour 
out  of  sight,  or  to  respond  to  his  call,  ^' Where  are 
you,  So-and-So  ?  "  Rabbits  creeping  about  in  the 
fern  and  brambles  near  by  will,  hearing  your  voice, 
be  very  shy  of  crossing  the  open  space,  and,  even 
with  the  dogs  or  beaters  hot  upon  them,  will  turn 
back  or  aside.  Hence  I  have  known  keen  sports- 
men object  to  call  at  all  in  covert.  But  we  do  it  at 
home,  and  we  manage  to  get  plenty  of  sport,  plenty 
of  shots  of  all  descriptions  at  rabbits  going  at  all 
paces.  I  like  them  best  (though  I  may  not  get  them 
oftenest)when  they  are  going  as  hard  as  they  can  pelt. 


126  GUNS 

If  you  are  by  yourself  shooting  rabbits,  ferreted 
or  driven  by  dogs  out  of  hedges,  never  shoot  into 
the  hedge  if  there  is  the  faintest  HkeHhood  of  there 
being  any  one,  hidden  from  you,  on  the  other  side. 
When  two  or  more  guns  are  shooting,  one  or  more 
on  either  side  of  a  hedge,  never  shoot  into  the 
hedge  at  all.  I  lay  this  down  as  a  rule  which 
ought  to  have  no  exceptions  whatever.  Don't  be 
tempted  by  the  deadly  rabbit  which  is  creeping  or 
running  along  in  the  hedge.  Wait  till  it  comes 
into  the  open  field,  which  it  may  for  a  few  yards 
at  any  rate,  even  if  to  retire  precipitately  a  few 
seconds  later  ;  it  will  be  a  cleaner,  a  more  sporting, 
and  a  far  safer  shot  in  the  open. 

What  I  have  said  so  far  relates  to  the  safety  of 
the  human  members — shooters,  beaters,  and  game- 
keepers— of  the  shooting  party.  I  turn  now  to  the 
canine  members,  who  deserve  much  more  con- 
sideration than  some  shooters  seem  always  ready 
to  extend  to  them.  When  there  are  many  dogs, 
and  the  covert  is  thick  and  rabbits  abound,  it  is  right 
to  be  very  careful  and  sternly  to  decline  a  good 
many  alluring  shots.  A  few  hours  before  writing 
this  I  was  shooting  with  dogs.  Three  or  four 
times  I  half  got  up  my  gun  for  a  shot  at  a  rabbit 
going  hard,  but  dropped  it ;  as  many  times  I  did 
not  even  half  swing  at  the  rabbit.  In  both 
cases  the  deterrent  was  the  same — one  or  more 
dogs  inconveniently  near  the  rabbit  as  it  bolted. 
Several  of  these  rabbits  might  have  been  killed 
without   a   dog   being   hit,    but   it   seemed    to    me 


BEGINNING   TO    SHOOT  127 

in  each  case  that  there  was  risk,  and  I  did  not 
choose  to  take  it.  After  all,  a  good  dog  is 
worth  several  score  of  rabbits,  and  besides  there 
is  always  something  more  than  the  mere  financial 
question — the  value  in  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence 
of  the  dog — to  be  considered.  To  pepper  a  dog 
is  a  deed  to  be  ashamed  of ;  it  will  even  make  you 
unhappy  and  uneasy  with  the  gun  for  some  time 
afterwards,  though  when  you  shot  you  had  no 
means  of  knowing  a  dog  was  in  a  line  with  the 
rabbit.^  You  may  sometimes  find  it  practicable  to 
shoot  at  a  rabbit  though  a  perfect  pack  of  dogs  are 
at  its  heels.  In  such  cases  you  do  not  shoot  over 
the  dogs  or  just  in  front  of  them,  but  you  take  the 
rabbit  as  he  twists  off  from  the  dogs  at  something 
like  a  right  angle  from  them ;  these  are  pretty 
shots,  and,  given  a  steady  performer  with  the  gun, 
safe  ones. 

What  I  have  said  against  shooting  at  rabbits  in 
cover  in  a  dangerous  way  of  course  applies  equally 
to  all  ground  game ;  it  applies  also  to  low  flying 
birds.  Woodcocks  occasionally  fly  very  low  indeed  ; 
pheasants,  too,  will  fly  low  down  the  line  :  leave 
these  alone  ;  do  not  point  at  them.  Let  your  rule 
in  this  matter  be  of  iron.  Let  no  bet  cause  you  to 
relax.  But,  by  the  way,  I  advise  you  never  to  bet 
about  your  own  shooting.  It  is  bad  enough  when 
other  folk  bet  about  you.     It  is  Mr.  Rider  Haggard 

1  Dogs  now  and  then  in  very  thick  places,  especially  dogs  which  do 
not  give  tongue^  get  hit  through  no  gross  carelessness  on  the  part  of 
the  shooter,  but  such  cases  are  happily/are. 


128  GUNS 

who  tells  the  tale  of  the  man  who  was  disconcerted 
at  finding  himself  watched  by  a  knot  of  miners  at 
a  pheasant  drive.  He  missed  several  shots,  when 
one  of  the  miners  said  in  effect  to  him,  ^'  I  have 
put  another  bob  on  you,  master,  and  if  you  miss  the 
next  bird,  I'll  knock  yer  bloomin'  head  off !  " 

A  few  general  rules  aimed  at  safety  may  be  given 
here.  If  you  are  not  prepared  to  obey  them  in  the 
spirit  and  the  letter,  you  ought  not  to  handle  a  gun  at 
all.  (i)  Never  point  a  gun,  loaded  or  unloaded,  at 
anybody  ;  it  is  a  fool's  game.  (2)  Do  not  load  your 
gun  till  the  start  is  actually  made.  (3)  Unload 
directly  the  shooting  is  over.  (4)  In  going  through 
hedges,  over  gates,  &c.,  take  great  care  not  to  let 
the  barrels  of  your  gun  point  towards  any  part 
of  your  own  person,  or  towards  any  one  else  who 
is  out  with  you  ;  and  let  your  gun  be  at  half-cock. 
(5)  When  you  leave  off  shooting  at  the  luncheon- 
time,  unload  your  gun.  (6)  When  you  prepare  to 
move  with  your  companions  from  one  beat  to 
another,  put  your  gun  at  half-cock.  (7)  In  moving 
from  beat  to  beat,  carry  your  gun  under  your 
right  or  left  arm  with  the  barrels  pointing  to  the 
ground,  or  over  one  of  your  shoulders  with  the 
barrels  not  pointing  at  right  angles  from  your 
back,  but  at  something  like  an  angle  of  forty-five 
above  your  back.  (8)  Never  shoot  down  the  line. 
(9)  Never  shoot  unless  you  are  sure  there  is  no  one 
in  the  line  of  fire.  (10)  Remember  glance  shot ; 
remember  glance  shot. 


MANAGEMENT   OF   THE   GUN         129 

Before  undertaking  to  write  on  shooting,  the 
question  suggested  itself,  how  far  was  I  qualified 
to  help  the  beginner  with  advice  and  experiences  ? 
Looking  over  my  own  qualifications,  I  find  that  the 
only  shooting  I  can  write  of  with  knowledge  is  of  a 
simple  kind.  Important  days  with  pheasants,  where 
everything  is  organised  scientifically,  I  know  prac- 
tically nothing  of ;  nor  have  I  ever  shot  a  driven 
grouse.  So  I  intend  saying  nothing  of  these  branches 
of  the  sport.  To  write  of  them  I  should  have  to 
draw  largely  from  other  books,  which  would  be  poor 
fun.  Mr.  Portman  will  tell  of  those  branches  in  a 
chapter  on  advanced  shooting  that  follows  ;  and,  if 
skill  with  the  gun  and  an  experience  of  the  chief 
shoots  in  the  country  count,  you  could  hardly  find 
a  stronger  guide. 

This  chapter  will  deal  with  shooting  of  a  much 
less  ambitious  sort,  of  wild  pheasants  and  of  par- 
tridges for  the  most  part  walked  up,  of  the  wood- 
pigeon,  of  an  occasional  hare  and  woodcock  ;  above 
all,  of  rabbiting  by  the  aid  of  dogs  alone,  or  of  dogs 
with  two  or  three  beaters,  and  of  ferreting.  Some- 
times we  shall  be  among  the  clover  and  the  sain- 
foin and  swedes  in  autumn,  at  others  ferreting  the 
hedge-banks  and  the  burrows  in  the  coppices  and 
high  wood,  or  visiting  the  furze-bushes  on  the 
commons,  where  the  rabbits  lie  out  when  the  cows 
and  cowboys  have  not  been  too  much  about.  We 
shall  stalk  rabbits,  too,  in  the  glades  and  woodland 
paths  in  summer,  either  with  a  gun  or  a  rook  rifle, 
and  lie  in  wait  for  the  great  flocks  of  wood-pigeons 

I 


130  GUNS 

on  bitter  winter  evenings.  And  this  I  pledge  myself 
to — I  will  not  copy  anything  out  of  the  books,  but 
will  talk  only  of  things  that  many's  the  time  I  have 
done  myself,  and  joyed  in  the  doing. 

Potting  rabbits  as  they  sat  nibbling  the  short 
grass  in  the  woodland  paths,  or  rides  as  we  often 
call  them,  was  the  way  I  began  ;  and  it  is  the  way,  I 
imagine,  in  which  some  thousands  of  young  shooters 
begin  every  year.  You  spy  the  rabbit  a  hundred 
yards  off  or  so,  and  creep  up  very  craftily  till  you 
are  within  range,  say  forty  yards.  Then,  while  he 
is  nibbling,  you  raise  the  gun  to  the  right  shoulder, 
close  the  left  eye  with  tremendous  determination, 
look  along  the  line  between  the  barrels  with  the 
right  eye  till  the  little  round  sight  at  the  end  covers 
the  rabbit.     Finally,  you  pull  the  trigger. 

It  is  rather  a  cold-blooded  way  of  shooting  com- 
pared with  the  way  we  shall  turn  to  directly,  but  as 
a  first  step  in  shooting  I  do  not  know  that  you  can 
better  it.  You  may  practise  no  doubt,  too,  at  paper 
targets  pinned  up  among  the  stems  of  underwood 
or  against  trees — if  the  tree  owner  does  not  object ; 
but,  to  shoot  running  or  flying  game  well,  the  prac- 
tical way  is  to  begin  by  shooting  sitting  rabbits,  or, 
when  you  can  find  them,  sitting  wood-pigeons. 
Blackbirds,  thrushes,  and  other  singing  and  small 
perching  birds  you  should  let  be  ;  they  are  such 
little  fellows  for  a  great  charge  of  number  5 
or  6  shot,  such  as  we  shall  use  throughout  these 
chapters. 

It    is  an  easy  thing  this  shooting  of  the  sitting 


"J^      >:>■  V'J  -^.' 


MANAGEMENT   OF   THE    GUN         131 

rabbit  at  thirty  or  even  forty  yards  distance.^  But 
not  quite  so  simple  always  to  lay  him  stone  dead, 
even  though  you  have  a  double-barrel  and  fire  the 
left,  which  is  a  choke  bore  and  carries  the  charge 
closer  for  a  slightly  longer  distance,  so  that  it 
strikes  with  deadlier  effect.  The  object  always  is 
to  shoot  your  game  in  the  head.  So  you  aim 
at  that,  even  in  the  longer  shots  where  the  charge 
must  scatter  and  strike  other  parts  as  well  as  the 
head. 

In  potting  the  rabbits  or  pigeons  as  they  sit,  get 
into  the  way  of  (i)  holding  the  gun  firmly  against 
the  shoulder,  and  (2)  grasping  the  gun  as  far 
down  the  barrel  or  barrels  as  you  conveniently  can. 
At  one  time  I  got  into  the  bad  habit  of  holding  the 
gun  not  firmly  enough  to  the  shoulder  in  shooting 
at  running  and  flying  game — especially  running 
rabbits  which  offered  swift  snapshots — and  it  was 
hard  to  break  myself  of  the  fault.  Holding  loosely 
to  the  shoulder  will  affect  your  aim,  and  if  there  is 
much  ''  kick  "  in  the  powder,  it  will,  it  is  quite  likely, 
make  your  right  jaw  tender  after  you  have  fired 
many  cartridges.  It  is  not  workmanlike  to  hold 
the  gun  thus  loosely,  and  it  may  give  folk  the  notion 
— not  necessarily  a  right  notion — that  you  are  not  a 
good  man  to  be  near  in  covert.  As  to  the  second 
point,  this  is  essential  too.  If  you  hold  the  gun 
with  your  left  hand  too  near  the  stock,  you  will 
not  have  the  necessary  power  over  it ;    it  will   be 

^  That  is,  after  you  have  stolen  within  range  of  or  stalked  him.     The 
stalk  is  an  exciting  thing  in  many  branches  of  sport. 


132  GUNS 

ill-balanced  in  your  hands,  and  things  will  go 
all  wrong  to  a  certainty.  Let  the  left  arm  be 
straightened  out  as  much  as  it  conveniently  can, 
and  then,  when  the  gun  rests  between  the  thumb 
and  fingers  of  that  hand  (the  hold  being  of  course 
round  the  barrels  underneath),  it  will  be  well  under 
command  ;  ease  and  steadiness  will  be  the  result. 
There  is  as  much  in  the  grip  of  the  gun  as  in  the 
grip  of  the  golf  driver,  only  there  is  practically 
but  one  way  of  gripping  the  former. 

Among  those  who  do  not  shoot,  and  have  not 
watched  shooting  with  the  shot-gun,  there  is  a 
somewhat  prevailing  notion  that,  to  shoot  flying  or 
running  objects,  the  gunner  lays  his  cheek  against 
the  stock,  shuts  the  left  eye,  and  peering  down  the 
barrels  fires  only  when  he  has  covered  the  object 
with  the  sight.  But,  if  this  were  the  method  of  the 
sportsman,  he  would  have  to  restrict  himself  to 
large  objects  travelling  slowly  !  The  truth  is,  you 
don't  use  the  sight  at  all  when  you  shoot  rabbits 
running  or  birds  flying.  Then  how  is  it  done  ? 
There  is  so  much  about  the  process  of  achieving  a 
hard  shot  at  a  running  or  flying  mark,  which  is  what 
may  be  termed  sub-conscious,^  that  it  seems  to  me 
very  difficult  to  depict  it  in  words.  The  gun  is 
raised,  swung  with  firmness    and   ease  to  the  spot 

^  Take  the  pulling  of  the  trigger.  The  forefinger  pulls  the  front 
trigger  for  the  first  barrel  and  the  back  for  the  left  without  the  shooter 
thinking  of  the  thing  at  all.  Once  for  a  long  while  I  somehow  had 
the  habit  of  pulling  the  back  trigger  first,  and  so  of  making  my  left 
barrel  my  opening  one.  I  was  as  sub-conscious  in  this  case  as  the 
other. 


MANAGEMENT   OF   THE   GUN         133 

where  the  moving  object  is  or  will  be  in  less  than  a 
second,  and  fired.  The  cheek  is  laid  against  the 
stock,  as  it  is  in  the  case  of  shots  at  stationary 
objects,  and  the  eye  without  doubt  takes  a  lightning 
survey  along  the  barrels,  though  it  does  not  seek 
the  sight,  and  there  is  no  thought  on  the  part  of  the 
shooter  of  getting  that  sight  exactly  between  the 
eye  and  the  moving  object.  To  me  the  perfect 
union  or  working  together  of  arm  and  eye  in 
shooting  is  a  marvel — a  mystery.  We  see  much 
the  same  partnership  of  course  in  other  pursuits 
and  games — in  billiards,  in  golf,  in  cricket,  in 
croquet,  for  instance.  In  some  games  it  is  hard  to 
say  which  is  the  chief,  which  the  junior  partner. 
In  dry-fly  fishing  the  hands,  wrists,  and  arms,  I 
suppose,  constitute  the  senior  partner  ;  but  where 
would  that  senior  be  without  the  junior  ?  And  ah 
how  badly,  when  one  is  shooting,  they  do  run  in 
double  harness  at  times  1  One  begins  to  think 
in  disgust  that  the  partnership  is  dissolved  for 
good,  that  it  were  best  to  take  out  the  cartridges 
and  go  home. 

It  is  obvious  that  if  you  shoot  straight  at  a  small 
object  travelling  fast,  on  the  ground  or  in  the  air, 
you  will  be  liable  to  hit  the  ground  or  the  empty 
air  rather  than  the  moving  object,  which  will  have 
passed  the  spot  by  the  time  the  trigger  has  been 
pulled  and  the  charge  has  arrived  there.  The 
charge  scatters  a  good  deal,  if  the  distance  is,  say, 
thirty  or  forty  yards,  so  that  the  sphere  of  danger 
for  the  object  fired  at   is  considerably   enlarged  ; 


134  GUNS 

but  you  should  not  count  on  this  :  you  nmst  be 
ahead  of  the  swiftly  moving  object  fired  at  to 
succeed  in  shooting.  It  would  be  possible,  I 
suppose,  by  mathematics  to  show  the  distance  you 
must  be  ahead  of  a  moving  object  travelling  at  a 
given  pace,  taking  into  account  the  distance  and 
the  rate  the  charge  travels,  &c.  But  such  precision 
would  not  be  of  the  least  practical  use  to  the 
shooter.  The  shooter,  when  he  takes  a  snapshot 
at  a  rabbit  moving  swiftly  in  covert,  does  not  want 
mathematical  calculations  as  to  these  matters.  In 
my  experience,  he  swings  the  gun  at  the  rabbit  and 
shoots  in  front  of  it  without  making  any  conscious 
calculation  at  all  as  to  the  rate  the  rabbit  is  going 
at,  &c.  He  does  not  say  to  himself,  '*  I  must  shoot 
well  in  front  of  this  rabbit ;  he  is  going  very  hard." 
He,  if  in  form,  does  so  without  consciously  plan- 
ning it.  This  at  any  rate  is  my  idea  of  how  the 
thing  is  done. 

From  the  very  beginning  cultivate  the  habit  of 
shooting  ahead  of  your  game  :  I  believe  there  is 
scarcely  a  more  important  habit  to  acquire  in 
shooting.  On  some  days  one  shoots  most  of  the 
rabbits  in  the  head,  or  at  any  rate  in  the  front 
parts  ;  on  other  days  there  is  that  ghastly  breaking 
of  hind  legs,  especially  in  the  case  of  broadside 
shots.  On  yet  other  days  the  rabbit  so  often  does 
not  stop  at  all — because  he  is  not  hit.  I  believe 
that  when  the  rabbit  thus  goes  on,  one  has  gener- 
ally been  over  or  behind  him  if  he  has  offered  a 
broadside  shot ;  and  behind  if  he  has  been  moving 


MANAGEMENT   OF   THE    GUN         135 

more  or  less  straight  away  from  the  shooter.  But 
I  suspect  it  is  generally  a  case  of  behind.  The 
curious  thing  is  that,  when  for  a  while  I  am  killing 
a  fast  rabbit  dead  every  other  shot  on  an  average, 
I  am  not  particularly  conscious  of  shooting  well  in 
front.  Eye  and  arm,  being  on  excellent  terms, 
seem  to  do  the  work  without  the  active  interven- 
tion of  the  will.  Still,  I  advise  that  you  should 
constantly  bear  in  mind  the  necessity  of  shooting 
in  front,  of  being  well  up  to  the  moving  object  ; 
it  will  then  tend  more  and  more  to  become  an 
unconscious  habit.  I  should  say  but  few  gunners 
are  often  too  much  ahead  of  fast-moving  game. 

What  has  been  said  about  the  necessity  of  shoot- 
ing ahead  of  the  object  aimed  at  applies  to  all 
game,  furred  and  feathered  alike,  offering  broad- 
side shots,  as  well  as  to  rabbits  going  away  from 
the  shooter.  How  far  ahead  you  must  fire  you  can 
learn  only  by  experience  ;  there  is  no  other  way. 
I  have  not  shot  driven  grouse.  I  have  shot  a 
certain  number  of  partridges  and  pheasants  going 
at  about  the  top  of  their  speed,  and  many,  many 
rabbits  moving  as  fast  as  they  possibly  can,  and 
what  has  struck  me  has  been  that  the  successful 
and  clean  shots  have  not  been  aimed  quite  so  far 
ahead  as  might  be  supposed,  but  still  distinctly 
ahead.  As  to  pheasants,  partridges,  woodcocks, 
and  other  birds  going  away  from  the  shooter, 
here,  I  believe,  though  I  cannot  be  perfectly  sure, 
that  when  I  miss  I  have  been  beneath  my  bird. 
Be,  if  anything,  a  little  above  the  bird  that  is  going 


136  GUNS 

away  from  you ;  be  a  trifle  beyond  the  rabbit  that  is 
going  away  from  you.  How  easy  it  is  sagely  to  set 
down  these  injunctions,  and  how  hard  often  it  is  for 
him  who  sets  them  down  himself  to  carry  them  out ! 

As  we  have  seen,  you  do  not  in  shooting  at 
running  or  flying  game  aim  as  you  do  at  stationary 
objects.  The  sight  is  not  used  :  I  don't  see  how 
the  sighting-plate  between  the  barrels  can  be  used 
either ;  at  any  rate,  I  am  not  conscious  of  having 
used  it.  Now,  in  trying  an  unloaded  gun,  and  in 
aiming  with  it  at  small  birds  flying — without  mean- 
ing to  shoot — one  has  often  seen  people  following 
up  the  moving  object  and  trying  to  get  the  sight 
on  it.  This  is  what  you  must  not  do  in  real 
shooting.  You  must  on  no  account  follow  objects 
up  with  the  gun.  It  is  a  sure  sign  of  a  bungler, 
and  of  a  man,  moreover,  who  should  be  given 
a  wide  berth  in  field  or  covert.  Do  not  get  the 
gun  up  till  the  moment  has  come  to  fire.  Then 
raise  the  gun  rapidly  and  easily  to  the  shoulder, 
swing  it  in  the  direction  required,  and  fire  even 
as  you  swing.  It  is,  as  it  were,  all  part  of  one 
movement.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  there  is  not 
an  essential  similarity  in  this  respect  between  the 
correct  way  of  using  a  sporting  gun  and  a  golf 
driver  or  brassey.  If  the  swing  of  the  gun,  by  the 
way,  were  arrested  before  the  shot  was  fired,  it 
would  surely  be  more  difficult,  in  case  of  a  miss 
with  the  first  barrel,  to  succeed  with  the  second. 

I  have  said  quite  enough  about  this  matter,  and 
will    but   add  that^  since  writing   all    but   the   last 


MANAGEMENT   OF   THE    GUN         137 

paragraph  or  two,  I  have  read  what  Mr.  Sydney 
Buxton  says  in  his  charming  book/  and  have 
spoken  of  the  matter  to  one  whom  I  have  shot 
with  for  many  years,  and  who  is  a  good  per- 
former. Mr.  Buxton's  notion  of  how  it  is  done 
is  not  unhke  mine.  What  has  here  been  said  of 
the  sub-conscious  goes  not  ill,  I  think,  with  Mr. 
Buxton's  remark  that  there  is  not  ^*  much  conscious 
aiming,  or  consciousness  of  the  existence  of  the 
gun  as  such.  There  is  much  truth  in  the  remark, 
*  If  I  aim,  I  poke  ;  if  I  poke,  I  miss  ;  the  days  I 
shoot  best  are  the  days  on  which  I  don't  know 
what  I  am  doing.' "  Now  for  my  other  friend. 
I  asked  him :  '^  Can  you  tell  me  what  you  do 
when  you  shoot  a  fast  rabbit.  Do  you  aim  at 
it  ?"  "No,"  he  replied.  Then  I  asked  him  if  he 
could  say  what  he  did.  But  all  he  could  say  was 
that  he  put  the  gun  to  his  shoulder,  and,  if  in 
good  form,  got  his  rabbit !  ^'  It's  a  matter  of  eye, 
you  know,"  he  added,  and  beyond  this  I  could 
get  no  enlightenment  from  him. 

A  few  remarks  about  the  sort  of  gun  that  is 
now  commonly  provided  for  young  beginners  and 
the  shooter's  outfit  may  be  convenient  here,  before 
we  turn  out  for  a  day's  sport  in  the  covert,  farm 
land,  or  common. 

Muzzle-loaders  for  beginners  are  now,  I  take  it, 
practically  unknown ;  a  few  years  from  now  indeed 
they  will  be  obsolete,  seeing  that  excellent  and — 
contrary  to  what  some  people  believe — perfectly 

^  "Fishing  and  Shooting,"  by  Sydney  Buxton,  M.P.  (Murray,  1902). 


138  GUNS 

safe  breech-loaders  can  be  bought  for  a  few 
sovereigns.^  Personally,  I  have  never  shot  with 
any  gun  but  a  12-bore  —  unless  the  gardener's 
boy's  muzzle-loader  mentioned  in  ^'Beginning  to 
Shoot "  had  a  smaller  bore  :  I  am  not  sure  about 
this — but  I  did  not  begin  till  I  was  about  sixteen, 
and  did  not  shoot  regularly  in  cover  till  I  was 
eighteen.  Most  boys  of  thirteen  or  fourteen,  I  arn 
told,  now  begin  with  a  single-barrelled  breech- 
loader of  either  20  or  16  bore.  The  age  at 
which  beginners  can  comfortably  handle  a  double- 
barrelled  gun  depends  of  course  on  their  strength  : 
some  can  use  one  at  fourteen. 

Here  are  some  weights  of  the  single  and  the 
double  barrelled  guns  sold  at  the  Army  and  Navy 
Stores  Gun  Department : — 

Single — 20-bore  weighs  about  4I  lbs. 
i6-bore       „  „      5      „ 

12-bore       „  „      s\    n 

Double — i6-bore       ,,  ,,      6      ,, 

20-bore       ,,        from  5 J  to  5 J  lbs. 

As  regards  prices,  single-barrelled  guns  (with 
hammer)  begin  at  £^y  i8s.  A  single-barrelled 
hammerless  gun,  12-bore  or  smaller,  will  cost 
about  ;gi2.  A  gun  such  as  the  latter  is  likely  no 
doubt  to  prove  serviceable  much  longer  than  one 
of  the  smaller  bored  guns  with   a  hammer,  for  it 

^  A  keeper's  double-barrel  gun,  with  rebounding  hammers,  central 
fire,  12-bore — a  good,  sound  weapon  I  believe — can  be  bought  for  under 
six  pounds. 


MANAGEMENT   OF   THE   GUN         139 

may  be  kept  and  occasionally  used  after  a  double 
gun  has  been  adopted.  There  are  other  guns, 
single  and  double,  suitable  for  beginners,  of 
various  prices  intermediate  between  the  £^f  i8s. 
and  the  ;^i2  gun  :  one,  for  instance  (hammerless 
double),  at  ^^8,  8s.;  another  at  ;£io,  los.  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  a  12-bore  is  the  most  service- 
able of  these  guns  to  start  with,  but  am  not  at 
all  inclined  to  lay  down  the  law  in  the  matter. 
With  the  smaller  bores  you  will  have  to  be  more 
accurate  in  your  aim  than  with  the  12-bore  gun  : 
I  do  not  describe  this  as  a  disadvantage  though. 

After  shooting  is  over  for  the  day,  you  should 
take  your  gun  to  pieces — I  mean  separate  the  stock 
from  the  barrels,  and  clean  it  yourself.  Tow  is  the 
best  material  to  pass  through  the  barrels.  After 
you  have  done  this  two  or  three  times  you  may 
pass  through  the  barrels  the  cleaning-brush,  which 
is  attached  to  a  rod  or  else  to  a  string.  Those 
parts  of  the  gun  about  the  locks  should  be  oiled  a 
little  now  and  then,  and  always  after  a  wet  day's 
shooting.  And  they  should  be  kept  clean  and 
bright.  For  my  part  I  find  the  cleaning  of  my  gun 
after  a  day's  shooting  by  no  means  a  nuisance  ;  it 
is  a  light  and  not  at  all  an  unpleasant  labour.  It 
is  better  to  take  the  gun  to  pieces  after  the  day's 
shooting  and  keep  it  in  the  case.  A  cartridge-bag 
and  a  cartridge-extractor  are  indispensable.  The 
former  will  cost  a  little  under  half-a-guinea — I 
do  not  recommend  cheap  bags,  as  the  wet  soon 
destroys  them — the   latter   a   shilling   or   so.      An 


I40  GUNS 

extractor,  which  is  one  of  the  trifles  of  the  shooting 
outfit  in  regard  to  price,  and  which  must  not  be  left 
at  home,  is  very  useful  when  the  cartridges  stick,  as 
the  best  of  them  will  at  times.  I  have  seen  people 
actually  use  their  teeth  for  tugging  out  obstinate 
cartridges  when  they  have  neither  extractor  nor 
any  other  implement  that  will  serve  at  a  pinch, 
but  I  do  not  recommend  the  practice ;  the  car- 
tridge may  loosen  the  tooth  instead  of  the  tooth 
the  cartridge.  When  I  first  began  shooting  with  a 
breech-loader  I  filled  my  own  cartridges.  Many 
an  hour  of  my  life  in  those  days  I  spent  pouring 
powder  and  shot  and  ramming  greasy  wads  into 
green,  blue,  aye  and  even  brown  cartridge-cases 
which  had  already  been  used  more  than  once. 
As  a  consequence  those  cartridges  would  stick 
rather  often  :  the  vexation  when  one  of  them 
stuck  very  fast,  and  I  had  forgotten  to  bring  out 
my  extractor  ! 

Nowadays,  I  fancy,  not  many  gunners  fill  their 
own  cartridges,  unless  they  are  rather  "  faddy " 
about  the  exact  sorts  and  proportions  of  powder 
and  shot  they  shoot  with.  In  the  days  I  speak  of, 
by  the  way,  the  powder  used  was  chiefly  the  old 
black  sort.  It  made  our  guns  very  dirty,  and  it 
caused  a  great  deal  of  smoke  —  on  some  days 
especially ;  but  I  believe  it  was  as  killing  as 
most  powders.  I  have  no  particular  preference 
or  fancy  as  to  what  '^  smokeless  powders  "  I  use. 
Sometimes  I  shoot  with  amberite,  sometimes  with 
Schultz.     It  is  not  so  much  the  particular  powder 


MANAGEMENT   OF   THE    GUN         141 

used  or  the  size  of  the  shot — numbers  5  and  6  shot 
are  best  on  the  whole  perhaps  for  such  shooting  as 
these  chapters  deal  with — that  does  it ;  rather  it  is 
the  man  behind  the  powder.  It  is  well  perhaps  to 
begin  with  rather  lightly  loaded  cartridges,  and  to 
change  to  ordinary  ones  when  the  recoil  is  no 
longer  a  matter  worth  considering.  When  you 
begin,  recoil  sometimes  is  a  matter  to  be  con- 
sidered. I  remember  that  the  day  following  my 
first  rook  shoot  at  Enham  Park — it  was  on  that 
delightful  day  I  first  shot  flying — my  right  shoulder 
was  black  and  blue.  The  firmer  you  hold  the 
gun  to  the  shoulder,  the  less  will  the  recoil  trouble 
you. 

You  do  not  want  advice  as  to  the  clothes  suitable 
to  the  sport.  I  could  not  give  it  to  you  if  you  did, 
for  these  sartorial  questions  have  never  interested 
me  much.  I  always  shot  and  fished  in  any  clothes 
I  happened  to  have  that  were  not  too  new  and 
good  for  the  thorns  and  the  rain  and  the  wear  and 
tear.  Gaiters  or  leggings  we  used  to  buy  as  a  rule 
in  the  village  shop,  where  we  also  got  our  ammuni- 
tion and  our  boot-laces,  our  gun  licenses — for  it 
was  a  post-office  as  well  as  a  shop  of  all  wares — 
shooting  and  fishing  coats,  caps,  and  waterproofs  : 
of  these  I  scarcely  had  my  fair  share.  Probably  it 
did  not  much  hurt  me  to  go  shooting  without  them, 
though  you  should  by  all  means  take  such  gifts  if 
they  are  offered  to  you.  I  do  regret  that  I  did  not 
set  more  store  by  waterproof  boots  in  those  days. 
It  is  only  quite  recently  I  have  studied  this  matter 


142  GUNS 

seriously.  There  comes  a  time  when  a  twinge  or 
two  of  undoubted  **  rheumatics " — as  my  friends 
the  keeper  and  the  woodman  call  it — reminds  one 
that  it  is  time  to  leave  off  walking  about  for  hours 
with  wet  feet.  It  is  really  a  good  plan  to  have  a 
pair  of  brown  or  black  absolutely  waterproof  boots. 
Do  not  on  any  account  let  the  servants  put  black- 
ing on  these  boots ;  they  will  if  you  are  not  careful, 
for  they  have  a  notion  that  boots  were  made  to 
shine.  Keep  your  shooting-boots  (which  when 
wet  outside  must  not  be  put  too  near  the  fire)  well 
greased,  not  oiled,  and  see  to  it  yourself. 


CHAPTER  II 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,   AND   PIGEONS 


Covert  shooting,  where  beaters  only  are  used  for 
moving  the  game  and  driving  it  to  the  guns,  will  be 
treated  of  by  Mr.  Portman.  Here  we  will  deal  with 
the  covert  shooting  where  dogs  are  used,  and  the 
game  consists  chiefly  of  rabbits.  This  sport  may 
be  divided  into  two  branches — shooting  the  cop- 
pices, the  underwood  of  which  is  from  one  year's 
growth  to,  say,  four  or  five  years,  and  also  the 
high  wood  ;    shooting  the  commons  and    thickets. 


M3 


144  GUNS 

It  is  no  use  beginning  covert  shooting  till  the  leaf 
is  off ;  that  is,  sometime  in  November.  In  spots  in 
the  v^oods  where  the  bracken  fern  grows  thick,  late 
December  or  even  January  is  a  better  time  than 
November,  because  the  brown  masses  of  dead  fern 
are  not  well  beaten  to  the  ground  till  there  has 
been  hard  frost  or  snow,  and  it  is  difficult  to  shoot 
rabbits  or  hares  among  this  undergrowth.  Often 
you  have  to  shoot  at  the  spot  where  the  fern  is 
moving,  for  the  rabbit  or  hare  is  hidden  in  its 
flight ;  and  in  shooting  thus  you  have  to  be  ex- 
tremely careful  not  to  hurt  the  dogs. 

Large  parties  are  not  very  good  for  beginners. 
The  pleasantest  way  of  learning  to  shoot  in  covert 
is  to  start  out  with  one  fellow-gunner  and  the 
gamekeeper,  and  perhaps  another  to  help  carry  the 
game.  Often,  whilst  out  alone  in  the  covert,  I  used 
to  wish  much  that  I  had  somebody  to  help  me 
carry  the  game,  or  else  a  velveteen  coat  full  of  great 
pockets  like  the  gamekeeper's.  It  is  astonishing 
how  much  game  one  gamekeeper  or  gamekeeper's 
assistant  can  carry  at  a  pinch.  I  know  a  game- 
keeper who  has  carried  as  many  as  thirty -two 
rabbits  in  his  pockets  and  ^'harled"^  on  a  stick 
across  his  shoulder,  but  in  that  case  a  number  of 
the  rabbits  were  paunched  on  the  spot.  If  you  are 
likely   to   shoot    much    alone,   a   coat   with    ample 

^  A  "  harled  "  rabbit  has  a  slit  with  a  sharp  knife  cut  in  one  thigh, 
and  through  this  the  other  leg  is  thrust.  By  this  device  you  can  thread 
half-a-dozen  rabbits  on  a  stick,  and  carry  them  in  one  hand  or  across 
the  shoulder  with  comparative  comfort. 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     145 

storage  room  is  a  boon.  It  is  possible  you  may 
be  tempted  to  hide  your  rabbits  when  these  become 
irksome  by  their  weight,  but  you  will  scarcely  care 
to  put  your  pheasant  in  a  bush  till  you  come  back 
that  way  later,  and  nothing  would  induce  you  to 
treat  a  woodcock  so. 

However,  at  the  moment  I  am  picturing  you  as 
out  in  the  covert,  with  one  shooting  companion 
and  the  gamekeeper.  The  method  when  shooting 
rabbits  with  dogs  is  for  the  guns  to  take  in  strips  the 
covert  chosen  for  the  day.  The  keeper  will  walk 
between  the  two  guns  at  a  distance  from  either  of, 
say,  sixty  yards.  But  the  extent  of  covert  covered 
by  the  guns  and  the  keeper  will  vary  according  to 
the  height  and  thickness  of  the  underwood  and 
undergrowth,  the  amount  of  ground  at  the  disposal 
of  the  party,  and  the  abundance  or  scarcity  of 
game.  If  there  is  plenty  of  covert  and  little  game, 
and  the  underwood  is  low,  so  that  the  members  of 
the  party  can  see  one  another  at  some  distance 
of¥,  then  the  plan  will  naturally  be  to  take  broad 
*'  drifts,"  to  cover  much  ground  at  a  time.  If  there 
is  not  much  covert  to  shoot  through  and  game 
is  abundant,  naturally  the  tendency  will  be  to 
take  far  narrower  ^*  drifts."  A  certain  number  of 
rabbits,  with  a  few  hares,  in  the  course  of  the  day 
will  be  dislodged  from  their  forms  ^  by  the  shooters 

^  The  "  form  "  is  the  smooth  place,  commonly  slightly  hollowed  out, 
where  the  rabbit  or  hare  squats,  resting  through  the  day.  Hares 
choose  nearly  always  an  open  spot  to  squat  in,  or  at  most  avail  themselves 
of  a  bunch  of  grass.     Rabbits  in  high  wood,  where  there  is  little  or  no 

K 


146  GUNS 

themselves,  who  disturb  them  by  walking  through 
the  undergrowth.  The  keeper,  who  beats  the 
bushes  and  likely  lurking-places  which  he  passes 
and  cheers  on  the  dogs,  dislodges  others.  But 
most  of  the  ground  game  is  found  and  put  up  by 
the  dogs.  Well-trained  rabbiting  dogs,  spaniels 
and  terriers — not  by  any  means  necessarily  pure- 
bred specimens — are  greatly  to  be  desired  for 
this  style  of  covert  shooting.  You  want  the  dogs 
to  hustle  the  rabbits  about,  giving  plenty  of  tongue 
all  the  while,  and  to  chase  them — up  to  a  point.^ 
You  want  them  to  work  the  ground  steadily, 
visiting  all  the  bramble  beds  and  thickets  of  grass, 
fern,  &c.  It  is  a  constant  pleasure  to  watch  a  dog 
work,  which  is  at  once  keen-nosed  and  well-trained, 
prying  into  all  the  likely  spots,  and  following  by 
scent,  giving  tongue  when  that  scent  is  hot,  and 
even  contriving — I  believe  that  the  best-trained 
dogs  do  this  systematically  at  times — to  work  the 
game  round  to  their  masters. 

When  the  keeper  sees  a  rabbit  travelling  more  or 
less  across  the  line  he  calls  out  to  the  gun  on  his 
right  or  on  his  left,  as  the  case  may  be,  who  stops 
and  hopes  for  a  shot.  The  guns  stop  too,  and  are 
on  the  alert  for  shots  when  the  dogs  about  them 

undergrowth,  will  squat  on  the  open  ground  or  among  the  stems  of 
hazel  and  oak,  making  their  form  on  the  dead  leaves ;  but  they  prefer 
fern,  brambles,  and  thick  grass  to  lie  in. 

^  The  keen  but  ill-trained  dog  will,  in  hot  pursuit  of  a  rabbit  or 
hare  that  goes  clean  away,  disappear  for  ten  minutes  or  so  quite  often, 
paying  no  heed  to  whistle  or  to  the  shouts  of  his  master,  till  he  has 
fairly  lost  scent  of  the  rabbit  or  hare. 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     147 

are  giving  tongue.  It  is  a  good  plan  to  wait  a 
little  at  open  glades  now  and  then,  whilst  the  dogs 
are  bustling  about  in  the  undergrowth  near  by. 
Often  rabbits  will  come  stealing  across  these  open 
spaces,  stopping  for  a  few  seconds  here  and  there, 
listening  to  the  dogs,  and  uncertain  where  they 
can  most  safely  betake  themselves  to.  It  is  never 
so  satisfactory  shooting  these  irresolute  rabbits  in 
covert — creeping  rabbits  or  creepers  as  we  some- 
times call  them  —  but  in  this  method  of  covert 
shooting  with  dogs  it  is  necessary  sometimes  to 
do  so. 

The  open  spaces  are  good  spots  at  which  to 
stand  and  get  shots  at  the  rabbits  running  fast 
away  from  the  dogs.  Stand  quite  still  and  presently 
you  will  get  a  clinking  broadside  shot  at  a  rabbit 
going  perhaps  as  fast  as  he  does  in  the  open  when 
well  on  his  feet.  It  is  good,  clean  work  when  you 
lay  the  rabbit  dead  thus,  and  the  three  or  four  dogs, 
wildly  giving  tongue  as  they  rushed  after  him, 
suddenly  become  silent,  and  go  off  to  put  up 
another.  One  such  rabbit  is  certainly  worth  half-a- 
dozen  creepers. 

Sometimes  the  strip  of  covert  to  be  taken  runs 
parallel  with  either  a  fairly  broad  or  narrow  wood- 
land ride,  and  one  gun  walks  along  this  ride  whilst 
the  keeper  and  the  other  gun  walk  through  the 
underwood.  If  you  are  in  the  ride,  you  take  the 
rabbits  which  cross  it  within  forty  yards  distance. 
You  will  not  be  troubled  much  by  creepers  then 
perhaps.    Walk  along,  not  in  the  middle  of  the  ride, 


148  GUNS 

but  at  the  edge  of  the  covert  in  which  the  keeper 
and  the  other  gun  are  walking.  You  will  fire  at  the 
rabbits  which  cross  just  as  they  are  disappearing 
into  the  covert  on  the  other  side  of  the  ride.  In 
the  case  of  very  narrow  paths  through  the  covert, 
the  shooting  is  undoubtedly  extremely  difficult. 
Even  when,  by  the  yelping  of  the  dogs  or  the 
warning  of  the  keeper,  you  know  that  a  rabbit  is 
coming  towards  you  and  is  going  to  cross  the  ride, 
it  is  extremely  difficult  shooting,  if,  through  the 
thickness  of  undergrowth,  there  is  no  chance  to 
speak  of  that  you  may  get  a  shot  at  him  after  he 
has  crossed  and  is  in  the  covert  on  the  other  side. 
He  is  across  the  narrow  path  of  three  or  four  feet 
in  a  flash,  and  you  do  not  see  him  till  he  flies  that 
path  !  How  is  it  to  be  done  ?  Well,  sometimes 
you  may  undoubtedly  get  him  by  shooting  at  the 
spot  in  the  covert  on  the  other  side  of  the  ride 
where  your  brain  telegraphs  to  your  eye  and  hand 
that  he  is.  I  have  had  rabbits  like  this — but,  ah,  the 
many  I  have  not  had  !  Often  I  have  seen  the  very 
quickest  gun  beat  by  rabbit  after  rabbit  crossing  the 
narrow  paths.  I  have  seen  a  quick  movement  on 
the  part  of  the  shooter,  but  the  gun  has  not  been 
fairly  swung  on  to  the  rabbit  and  never  fired  at  all. 

I  have  seen  shooters  standing  in  one  of  these 
paths,  or  in  broader  paths,  with  the  gun  actually 
pressed  to  the  shoulder  :  they  have  been  waiting  for 
the  rabbit  to  cross  :  and,  I  admit,  I  have  stood  thus 
in  preparation  myself  now  and  then.  I  have  got  a 
few  rabbits  in  this  way,  but  I  have  felt  all  the  while 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS      149 

that  it  was  not  wise.  It  looks  so  bad ;  it  is  not 
workmanlike  ;  it  is  an  over  anxious  device.  Keep 
the  gun  down  till  the  moment  to  raise,  swing,  and 
fire  arrives,  or  you  will  be  sure  to  fumble. 

In  shooting  at  rabbits  in  these  very  narrow  paths, 
be  sure,  before  you  fire,  that  a  dog  is  not  in  hot 
pursuit  a  foot  or  two  behind  the  rabbit. 

Pheasants,  woodcocks,  and  hares  live  in  the 
coverts  with  the  rabbits,  and  add  zest  to  the  sport  of 
rabbit-shooting.  You  will  not  get  shots  often  at 
high-flying  or  very  fast  pheasants,  unless  the  ground 
is  very  broken  and  you  are  walking  now  in  deep 
wooded  dells,  now  along  or  over  steep  hill  and 
hanger.  But  you  will  find  that  some  wild  pheas- 
ants in  covert,  getting  up  in  front  of  the  dogs,  offer 
by  no  means  the  simplest  of  shots  at  thirty-five 
or  forty  yards  distance.  When  pheasants  get  up 
within  short  range,  fifteen  or  twenty  yards,  there 
is  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  some  rabbit-shooters 
to  be  too  quick  on  them.  It  is  droll  to  see  appa- 
rently the  easiest  shots  imaginable  at  flying  game 
missed  now  and  then  by  even  good  performers. 
Sometimes  the  explanation  is,  I  think,  that  the 
pheasant  is  shot  at  whilst  it  is  still  mounting  and 
before  it  sails  away.  A  certain  cock  pheasant  which 
my  dog  put  up  in  an  open  field  I  cannot  forget.  It 
happened  more  than  eighteen  years  ago  on  a  farm 
over  which  I  was  shooting  by  myself  for  several 
months.  This  farm  held  a  fair  head  of  partridges 
with  some  hares,  whilst  in  the  two  or  three  small 
coverts   and   in  the  dense   hedgerows   there   were 


I50  GUNS 

a  good  many  rabbits,  some  pheasants,  and  occa- 
sionally a  woodcock.  I  remember  missing  a  very 
fast  quail  which  rose  in  some  rough  standing  barley, 
and  a  twisting  jack-snipe  which  was  also  in  standing 
corn  ;  and  I  recollect  dropping  a  partridge  dead  at 
just  eighty  yards  distance — the  longest  shot  I  have 
ever  made  or  am  ever  likely  to  make. 

But  this  cock  pheasant  was  a  cruel  humiliation, 
though  there  was  no  one  near  to  witness  it.  He 
rose  at  about  twenty  yards  distance  out  of  a  rough 
spot,  and  I  had  two  barrels  without  touching  a 
feather.  Perhaps,  if  I  had  shut  both  eyes,  I  should 
have  got  him  with  the  first  barrel.  He  was  a  per- 
fect haystack  of  a  shot. 

On  another  occasion,  at  home  in  the  woods, 
my  spaniels  put  up  a  woodcock  which  flew  straight 
away  slowly.  Two  barrels  this  time  again,  and 
nothing  happened.  My  only  comfort  is  that  much 
better  men  than  I  am,  now  and  then  cannot  touch 
these  absurdly  easy  shots.  It  is  comforting  to 
know  that  the  swells  themselves  fail  sometimes ; 
that  they  miss  their  two-feet  putts  on  the  green, 
that  they  try  the  simplest  *^ Whitechapel  shot"  on 
the  billiard-table  and  ignominiously  fail,  that  they 
fire  two  barrels  at  an  old  hedgerow  cock  pheas- 
ant, and  that  he  sails  joyfully  away  from  them. 
Then  there  is  a  brotherly  feeling  between  us  and 
the  swell  performer :  it  is  the  touch  of  Nature  that 
makes  the  whole  world  kin. 

Give,  then,  the  pheasant,  put  up  by  the  dogs 
in  covert,  time  ;   or,  to  put  it  in  another  way,  give 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,   PIGEONS     151 

yourself  time.     As  for  woodcocks,  it  is  excusable  if 
you  shoot  at  them  even  a  somewhat  desperately  long 
shot,  should  they  rise  wild.     You  will  not  often  get 
a  woodcock  which  is  more  than  forty-five  yards  off, 
I   think ;  but  it  is  an  easy  bird  to  stop  if  you  can 
manage  to  strike  it.     A  very  few  shots  kill  a  wood- 
cock.    In  regard  to  winged  woodcocks,  I   cannot 
say  whether  they  will  run  or  not.     I    have  never 
known  of  a  case,  but  keepers  and  others  have  told 
me  they  will  run  now  and  then  when  winged,  a  little 
way  at  any  rate.     Winged  cock  pheasants  are  rare 
sprinters ;  hens,  on  the  whole,  I  think,  less  so.     As 
to  hares — may  you  kill  yours  outright.     The   cry 
of  a  wounded  hare  is   not  good  to  hear.     Do  not 
try  long  shots  at  hares  ;   especially  desist  if  they 
are    travelling    away    from    you.      Whilst    in    the 
coverts   you   may    from   time   to    time   meet    with 
barn  as  well  as  tawny  owls,  which  rest  by  day  in 
the  ivied  oaks,   &c.     Leave  them  alone ;  they  are 
not  for  the  sportsman's  gun  :  neither  are  kestrels. 
At  the  carrion  crow,   another  bird  of  the  coverts, 
you  will   not,   I  fancy,  often  get  a  chance.      The 
keeper  has  certain  devices — which  I  cannot  bring 
myself  in  the  least  to  like — for  keeping  down  the 
crows.     We  have  only  one  this  winter;  all  his  com- 
panions are  dead  :  he,  grown  cunning  even  beyond 
his  kind,  lingers  on.     He  has  nothing  to  fear  so  far 
as  I  am  concerned. 

This  method  of  walking  the  low  underwoods  and 
shooting  with  dogs  resembles  in  the  main  partridge- 
shooting  where  the  birds  are  not  driven  ;    except 


152  GUNS 

that  in  walking  up  partridges,  as  I  am  accustomed 
to  this  sport,  dogs  are  not  used  :  only  a  retriever 
is  taken  to  secure  wounded  birds  or  hares.  Not 
having  a  regular  retriever,  when  shooting  quite 
alone  over  the  farms,  the  sporting  rights  of  which  we 
rented  or  reserved,  I  used  generally  to  take  with  me 
a  couple  of  spaniels  ;  but  this  was  because  there 
were  some  spinneys  and  very  thick  hedgerows,  out 
of  which  one  counted  on  getting  a  few  rabbits. 
The  dogs  I  kept  in  at  heel  whilst  walking  through 
the  root  crops,  &c. :  an  obedient  dog  alone  can 
be  tolerated  when  you  are  partridge-shooting ;  an 
ill-trained  dog  is  far  worse  on  the  farm  lands  than 
in  covert. 

A  party  of  three  will  work  a  field  of  turnips, 
clover,  &c.,  just  as  they  work  the  covert.  When 
the  three  have  walked  to  within  a  short  distance 
of  the  end  of  the  strip  of  covert  or  the  field  of 
turnips,  &c.,  they  are  taking,  one  gun  stands  still 
whilst  the  other  gun  and  the  keeper  or  beater 
swing  round  to  come  into  line  again,  and  take  a 
fresh  strip  back,  or  to  the  right  or  left,  as  may  be 
arranged. 

Partridge-shooting  is,  I  suppose,  held  by  most 
gunners  to  be  a  better  sport  than  rabbit-shooting. 
I  should  find  it  hard  to  declare  a  decided  prefer- 
ence for  one  or  the  other.  Both  are  delightful.  In 
rabbiting  in  the  coverts  and  commons,  there  is 
always  the  chance  of  a  shot  or  two  now  and  then 
at  pheasants,  hares,  above  all  at  a  woodcock  :  that 
cry  in  covert  of  '^  Mark  cock  ! "  when  a  woodcock 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     153 

is  flushed,  makes  you  tremendously  keen.  Then 
the  quick  snapshots  at  rabbits  going  hard  in  thick 
spots  are  great  sport,  especially  when  they  '*come 
off." 

On  the  other  hand  the  right  and  left,  which 
we  so  constantly  get  at  walked-up  partridges,  is 
an  experience  comparatively  rare  in  rabbiting  in 
covert.  The  thing  is  to  go  in  for  both,  and  never  to 
trouble  about  which  is  the  better  sport  of  the  two. 
In  rabbiting  in  covert,  absolute  silence  on  the  part 
of  the  guns  is  not  by  any  means  always  desirable 
where  the  wood  is  high  and  thick,  and  the  members 
of  the  party  cannot  well  keep  in  touch  with  each 
other  except  through  the  voice ;  this  matter  has 
been  touched  upon  in  the  warnings  contained  in 
the  first  chapter  of  ^'  Guns." 

But  absolute  silence  is  desirable  in  partridge- 
shooting.  The  sound  of  voices  will  make  the 
partridges  rise  wild  from  their  lay,  and  out  of 
range.  Keep  quiet,  then,  whilst  you  are  walking 
up  partridges. 

When  a  covey  rises  within  range,  never  fire  into 
the  thick  or  "  the  brown  "  of  the  birds.  Choose  a 
particular  bird  outside  ^'  the  brown,"  and,  if  you 
bring  him  down  with  your  first  barrel,  choose 
another  outside  for  your  second,  should  the  covey 
by  then  still  be  within  range — forty-five  yards  or 
so.  If  your  bird  or  birds  fall,  on  no  account  must 
you  rush  forward  to  pick  them  up.  Steady  your- 
self, and  reload  at  once  ;  there  well  may  be  some 
isolated  birds  crouching  near  by  in  the  turnips  or 


154  GUNS 

whatever  the  lay  may  be,  and  these,  by  rushing  for- 
ward, you  will  put  up,  and  so  lose  the  chance  of 
getting.  Complete  coolness  and  command  over 
yourself  are  essential  to  excellence  in  shooting. 
When  a  covey  rises  within  range,  and  all  the  shots 
that  are  practicable  have  been  fired  at  the  birds 
which  comprise  it,  or  when  a  covey  rises  out  of  gun- 
shot, you  stand  still  and  mark  carefully  where  it 
goes  to.  ''  Mark !  Mark  !  "  is  the  imperative  of  the 
moment — the  only  talking  which  is  permissible  out 
partridge-shooting. 

Partridges  marked  down  are  sometimes  pursued 
at  once,  sometimes  left  till  the  field  they  rose  from 
is  well  shot  over.  When  presently  you  come  near 
the  spot  where  the  birds  were  seen  to  alight,  be 
ready  for  a  shot  or  shots  at  any  moment,  but  do 
not  get  your  gun  up  till  the  birds  are  up  and  the 
time  has  come  to  cover  them  and  fire.  It  looks 
ugly,  just  as  it  does  in  covert  shooting,  to  see  a  man 
holding  his  gun  to  his  shoulder  before  the  game  is 
up.  The  swing  is  the  thing  here  as  in  snap-shooting 
at  rabbits. 

The  prettiest  sport  of  the  day  is  when  a  covey  of 
partridges  scatters  in  a  field  of  clover  or  roots,  and 
the  isolated  birds  are  picked  up  one  by  one  as  they 
rise.  Some  people,  when  the  birds  are  wild  and 
rising  out  of  range,  will  fire  a  long  shot  at  them  on 
the  chance  of  scattering  the  covey  ;  but  this,  in  my 
experience,  is  not  often  a  success.  When  you  are 
walking  up  very  wild  and  wary  partridges,  you 
must  avail  yourself  of  every  scrap  of  cover  in  the  way 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     155 

of  hedges  and  trees,  and  must  study  what  is  the 
best  chance  of  getting  within  range  of  the  birds. 
As  a  rule,  you  will  prefer  to  walk  with  the  wind  in 
your  face  rather  than  at  your  back,  as  the  latter 
of  course  would  serve  to  carry  the  sound  of  your 
footsteps  to  the  birds. 

It  is  good  sport  when  a  covey,  or  a  portion  of  a 
covey,  scatters  in  a  hedgerow  and  lies  close  there  ; 
but  this  is  not  a  very  common  occurrence.  Often 
the  covey  seems  to  go  into  a  hedge,  when  in  reality 
the  birds  have  stopped  just  short  of  it,  and  will  rise 
wild  when  you  approach  the  spot. 

Do  not  suppose  that  the  birds  which  you  have 
marked  down  will,  when  you  draw  near,  neces- 
sarily rise  from  the  particular  spot  you  have  your 
eye  upon.  Very  often  the  birds  upon  alighting 
will  run  for  many  yards  before  stopping  and 
crouching. 

In  partridge-shooting,  as  in  all  other  methods  of 
shooting,  a  gun  should  take  only  his  own  birds. 
You  must  not  shoot  across  at  birds  which  have 
risen  nearer  to  your  companion  or  companions 
than  to  yourself.  From  time  to  time  no  doubt 
there  must  occur  cases  where  it  is  impossible  at 
the  moment  to  say  to  whom  a  bird  or  a  rabbit  or 
hare  belongs  ;  and  game  in  this  neutral  zone  of 
fire  may  be  shot  at  by  two  guns,  but  as  a  rule  it 
is  quite  simple  to  distinguish  clearly  between  meum 
and  tuum  out  shooting. 

We  will  now  turn  back  to  the  woods  and  the 
commons,  as  I  have  something  to  say  about  three 


156  GUNS 

distinct  and  capital  branches  of  sport  among  wood- 
pigeons  and  rabbits. 

Pigeon-shooting  from  November  till  February 
is  very  good  fun.  To  enjoy  it  to  any  extent  you 
must  have  the  right  to  enter  and  shoot  in  woods 
large  or  small.  Large  woods  are  far  better  for 
this  pursuit,  as  they  contain  a  bigger  head  of  birds, 
and  when  acorns  are  abundant,  as  was  the  case 
in  1900 — in  1901  and  1902  the  acorn  crop  failed, 
and  the  birds  were  for  the  most  part  in  the  fields 
till  the  roosting  hour — they  contain  great  flocks 
and  small  parties  of  birds  during  the  day  as  well 
as  the  night.  But  in  small  woods,  too,  there  are 
usually  some  pigeons  to  be  shot  by  the  careful 
stalker. 

To  get  shots  at  pigeons  in  the  daytime,  it  is  better 
to  be  alone,  and  you  need  no  dog.  The  plan  is 
to  walk  along  the  woodland  paths,  ready  at  any 
moment  to  get  the  gun  up  at  a  bird  as  it  dashes 
out  of  a  tree  within  a  distance  of  from  fifteen  to 
thirty  or  thirty-five  yards,  or  rises  from  the  ground 
where  it  has  been  feeding  on  acorns,  &c.  As  a 
rule  the  pigeon  will  be  going  straight  away  from 
you  through  the  trees ;  broadside  shots  at  pigeons, 
unless  you  are  hidden  and  lying  in  wait  for  them, 
are  less  usual. 

Fairly  on  the  wing,  the  wood-pigeon  flies  strongly 
and  fast,  and,  unless  one  of  its  wings  is  disabled, 
it  is  by  no  means  always  stopped  when  struck  at  a 
distance  of  forty  or  forty-five  yards ;  the  skin  is 
thick,  the  plumage  is  thick  and  firm,  and  the  bird 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     157 

itself  is  able  sometimes  to  carry  off  shot  to  a  sur- 
prising extent. 

These  shots  at  pigeons  from  the  woodland  paths 
are  generally  snapshots  ;  if  you  wait,  the  bird  is 
the  other  side  of  a  tree  and  out  of  danger.  I 
should  call  it  hard  snap-shooting.  But  there  is  this 
in  the  gunner's  favour  :  the  pigeon  makes  a  good 
deal  of  noise  in  starting  from  its  tree  or  from  the 
ground  ;  it  does  not  steal  away  as  some  woodland 
birds  will.  It  is  rather  a  blunderer  at  first,  and  this 
favours  the  gunner.  The  worst  of  these  snapshots  at 
pigeons  among  the  trees  is  that  one  is  apt  to  wing 
birds  :  they  never  run  when  winged,  and  by  reason 
of  their  colour,  which  does  not  assimilate  with  the 
ground,  are  easily  found  in  the  thickest  coverts  ; 
but  one  wants  mercifully  to  kill  one's  game  out- 
right. A  broadside  shot  at  a  pigeon  is  more  likely 
to  kill  outright,  and  still  more  so  is  the  shot  at  a 
wood-pigeon  coming  straight  towards  and  over  the 
gun. 

Pigeons  with  crops  full  of  acorns  or  green  food 
from  the  fields,  or  later  on  ivy  berries,  are  more 
easily  approached,  being  comparatively  sluggish  ; 
but  it  is  not  so  satisfactory  to  get  them  thus,  at  a 
disadvantage. 

Towards  night,  or  on  a  December  day  as  early 
as  about  four  in  the  afternoon,  the  pigeons  begin 
to  settle  on  their  sleeping  quarters,  which  they 
shift  according  to  where  the  wind  sits.  If  there 
is  a  path  under  spruces  or  larches  or  dark  pines, 
where  you  shoot,  you  may  often  get  a  shot  a  little 


158  GUNS 

before  dusk  by  walking  underneath  those  trees. 
A  pigeon  that  dashes  off  from  the  topmost  boughs 
of  a  towering  fir  is  hard  to  hit  :  I  should  say  that 
the  gunner  who  can  bring  down  stone  dead  two 
out  of  three  such  pigeons,  may  take  rank  as  a  fine 
performer. 

Another  and  a  favourite  way  of  shooting  wood- 
pigeons  is  to  crouch  against  a  tree,  round  about 
and  on  which,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  the  birds 
roost  in  numbers.  You  wait  perfectly  still  for  the 
pigeons  to  come  in,  getting,  it  may  be,  a  shot 
presently  at  several  clustered  on  a  branch  they 
have  alit  upon.  This  is  potting  your  pigeon.  It 
is  of  course  not  half  so  good  as  getting  him  on  the 
wing,  though  there  was  a  time  presumably  when 
they  made  a  point  of  potting  their  pigeons.  In  a 
book  full  of  quaint  maxims,  called  "  Some  Fruits 
of  Solitude,"  written  by  William  Penn,  and  printed 
first  in  1693,  we  are  told  that  "To  Shoot  well 
Flying  is  well  ;  but  to  Chose  it,  has  more  of  Vanity 
than  Judgment."  In  those  times  firing  a  gun  was 
a  matter  to  be  dwelt  upon  much  more  than  it  is 
to-day.  It  took  time  to  load  ;  it  was  comparatively 
quite  a  weighty  business.  Now  you  just  open  the 
gun  at  the  breech,  fling  away  the  empty  cartridge- 
case — or  let  the  extractor  do  it  for  you — slip  in  a 
fresh  one,  snap  the  gun  together,  and  you  are 
ready  for  the  next.  No  wonder  we  go  in  for 
shots  which,  in  the  cautious  Quaker's  view,  argued 
vanity  rather  than  good  judgment.  And  then,  it 
may  be,  they  really  wanted  the  things  to  cook  and 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     159 

eat  more  than  we  ordinarily  do  to-day.  You  will 
note  that  in  Walton's  *^  Compleat  Angler  "  there  is 
a  good  deal  about  how  to  cook  and  serve  up  the 
fishes  as  well  as  about  how  to  catch  them. 

At  any  rate  you  may  quite  safely  begin  by  shoot- 
ing wood-pigeons  not  flying,  just  as  you  will  begin 
by  shooting  rabbits  not  running,  though  you  must 
not  pot  pheasants  or  partridges.  I  have  more 
than  once,  when  I  have  wanted  a  pigeon,  and  have 
not  seen  how  to  get  him  in  any  other  way,  tried  a 
pot  shot.  And,  take  my  word  for  it,  you  will  not 
get  every  pigeon  you  shoot  at  in  a  tree  with  thick 
branches,  if  he  is  forty  or  more  yards  off. 

Besides  the  ring-dove  or  wood-pigeon,  there  is 
the  stock-dove,  which  I  have  heard  described  by 
some  country  folk  as  the  ^'  blue  rock  "  :  he  now  and 
then  joins  the  pigeon  parties  in  hard  weather. 
This  is  a  considerably  smaller  bird  than  the  ring- 
dove, and  has  not  the  beautiful  white  feathers  on 
the  side  of  the  neck,  but  metallic  green  ones 
instead.  Both  birds  are  richly  clad  with  iridescent 
feathers.  Even  in  winter,  when  the  ring-dove  is  not 
at  its  brightest,  it  is  a  beautiful  bird,  gleaming  and 
shimmering  in  colour.  When  the  winter  passes, 
and  the  ring-doves  break  up  their  flocks  and 
parties  and  pair  off,  you  must  desist  from  the  gun 
so  far  as  they  are  concerned.  They  lose  then 
their  winter  wildness,  and  are  therefore  no  longer 
creatures  keenly  to  be  stalked  by  the  sportsman. 
Stay  your  hand  when  the  ring-dove  pairs,  and  wait 
till  the  coming  of  the  autumn. 


i6o  GUNS 

Ferreting  is  a  favourite  method  of  rabbit-shooting. 
Its  chief  drawback  is  that  the  ferret,  instead  of 
making  the  rabbit  bolt,  may  kill  it  in  the  burrow, 
and  *Mie  up"  there  for  an  hour  or  more.  This 
probably  occurs  less  often  when  one  is  shooting 
ferreted  rabbits  than  when  one  is  netting  the  holes. 
Moving  about  and  setting  the  nets  will  cause  a 
certain  amount  of  sound,  especially  where  the  ground 
is  honeycombed,  and  it  is  strange  how  averse  from 
bolting  rabbits  are  when  they  scent  some  vague 
danger  without.  They  will  sometimes  push  their 
heads  against  the  end  of  a  blind  tunnel,  and  suffer 
the  ferret  to  scrape  them  horribly ;  or  they  will 
perish  in  one  of  the  main  passages ;  anything 
rather  than  face  the  unknown  foe  above.  How- 
ever, on  some  days  and  from  some  burrows  ^ — the 
reasons  for  bolting  and  non-bolting  days  and  bur- 
rows are  obscure — rabbits  bolt  briskly.  Though 
they  seem  so  fearful  of  man's  footfall  and  of  the 
nets,  and  will  run  back  often  if  they  catch  sight  of 
the  ferreter,  the  sound  of  the  gun  fired  at  one 
bolting  rabbit  does  not  necessarily  prevent  other 
rabbits  in  the  burrow  from  coming  out  when 
hustled  about  by  the  ferret.  And  when  the  rabbits 
are  bolting  freely  on  a  still  day  in  the  woods  or 
hedgerows  and  hedgerow  banks,  the  sport  is  lively. 
In  ferreting  burrows  in  covert,  it  is  best  when  there 

^  The  gamekeeper  and  the  woodmen  in  the  South  of  England  speak 
of  a  rabbit's  "  burry,"  or  "bury,"  and  of  a  fox's  "earth."  A  rabbit's 
"stop"  is  a  single  tunnel  containing  a  doe  rabbit's  nest  and  young. 
When  the  mother  goes  out,  she  stops  up  this  hole  with  earth. 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     i6i 

is  one  gunner  and  one  ferreter.  The  gunner, 
unless  he  is  a  cool  and  very  experienced  hand, 
should  always  stand  close  to  the  ferreter.  This 
is  the  safe  plan,  and  any  plan  that  is  not  perfectly 
safe  is  utterly  to  be  condemned.  Several  gunners 
and  several  ferreters  or  onlookers  hanging  about 
a  burrow  form  a  party  which  you  will  do  well  to 
shun,  whether  you  carry  a  gun  or  not.  The  rabbit 
often  comes  out  at  the  hole  where  you  do  not 
expect  him,  and  he  does  not  always,  in  his  confu- 
sion at  finding  a  company  waiting  for  him  above 
ground,  make  straight  off  from  the  mouth  of  the 
burrow.  He  may  dodge  about,  and  it  may  be  hard 
to  say  which  gun  he  belongs  to.  When  there  is 
only  one  gunner,  and  he  stands  a  little  in  front  of 
or  close  beside  the  ferreter  (who,  after  taking  the 
ferret  out  of  the  bag,  and  putting  it  into  one  of  the 
holes,  should  step  gently  back  and  crouch  behind  or 
beside  the  gunner^),  it  is  all  plain  sailing.  The 
gunner  then  has  a  perfectly  free  hand. 

Sometimes  the  rabbit,  when  he  is  just  out,  stops 
a  second  or  two  before  running  of¥.  If  the  gunner 
is  within  ten  yards  or  so  of  the  hole,  he  will  be 
glad  to  give  the  rabbit  a  few  more  yards'  grace,  for, 
though  we  want  to  shoot  our  rabbits  dead,  we  do 
not  want  to  spoil  them  for  the  table.  There  was  a 
favourite  story  told  of  an  old  duffer  with  the  gun 
— though   in   other  ways   a   good   fellow — in    our 

^  The  gunner  had  much  better  not  put  his  gun  at  full-cock  until  this 
has  been  done ;  and  in  going  from  burrow  to  burrow  he  should  put  his 
gun  at  the  half-cock  or  "  safety,"  or,  still  better,  take  the  cartridges  out. 

L 


i62  GUNS 

district,  that  he  would  now  and  then  get  a  rabbit  as 
it  squatted  in  its  form,  crying  out  loudly  after  this 
deed,  for  the  benefit  of  his  neighbours,  ''  Eighty 
yards  !  eighty  yards  !  Going  like  a  bullet,  and  I  cut 
'un  over  pretty."  His  rabbits  were  extremely  limp 
as  a  rule,  and  no  wonder,  considering  the  short 
range  at  which  he  fired  down  on  them. 

So  we  must  not  take  the  rabbit  too  soon  in  ferret- 
ing in  the  covert ;  but  we  must  not  wait  too  long, 
otherwise  the  stems  of  underwood  and  the  under- 
growth will  shelter  him  effectually. 

Both  gunners  and  ferreters  must  keep  back  from 
the  mouths  of  the  holes,  lest  the  rabbit,  catching 
sight  of  them,  return  precipitately,  and  be  killed  by 
the  ferret  underground. 

The  best  days  for  covert  ferreting,  in  my  opinion, 
are  fine  and  still,  or  fairly  still.  On  a  wet  day  there 
may  be  more  rabbits  lying  underground,  but  it  is 
not  so  pleasant  waiting  for  them  in  the  dripping 
woods  ;  on  a  roaring  day  one  cannot  hear  the 
rabbits,  and  it  is  more  difficult  to  dig  down  upon 
them  in  case  the  ferret  kills  them  in  the  burrow. 

Rules  to  bear  in  mind  in  ferreting  in  covert 
are  : — Do  not  have  your  gun  to  your  shoulder  and 
pointed  towards  the  hole  out  of  which  you  expect 
the  rabbit  to  come  ;  take  care  that  your  companion 
is  close  behind  or  crouching  close  at  your  side  ; 
keep  perfect  silence  ;  do  not  put  your  gun  at  full- 
cock  till  the  ferret  is  in,  and  your  companion  has 
crept  up  behind  or  beside  you  ;  do  not  take  a 
snapshot  at  the  rabbit  directly  he  appears  outside 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     163 

the  hole  ;  after  shooting,  or  shooting  at,  one  rabbit 
that  has  bolted,  keep  quiet  and  wait  till  you  are 
sure  there  are  not  others  below  being  hunted  by 
the  ferret ;  when  it  becomes  clear  that  the  ferret 
has  lain  up  with  a  rabbit  and  must  be  dug  out,  put 
your  gun  at  the  half-cock  forthwith,  or,  better,  take 
the  cartridges  out. 

But  the  kind  of  rabbiting  which  you  enjoy 
perhaps  most  of  all  when  you  are  in  form,  and 
perhaps  least  of  all  when  you  are  '^  clean  off,"  is 
shooting  the  small  isolated  patches  and  single 
bushes  of  furze  on  commons  and  wild  places.  We 
are  still  dealing,  remember,  with  the  method  of 
shooting  rabbits  that  are  for  the  most  part  put  up 
and  hustled  about  by  dogs,  rather  than  beaters, 
though  a  beater  or  two  will  always  help  to  keep  the 
sport  lively  by  encouraging  the  dogs  and  aiding 
them  in  very  thick  spots.  Rabbits  very  often 
travel  quickly  in  the  open,  quicker  than  a  hare 
when  first  roused ;  as  we  have  seen,  too,  they  can 
run  hard  enough  to  please  most  gunners  even  in 
thick  covert,  when  a  yelping  pack  of  terriers  and 
spaniels  are  in  hot  pursuit,  chasing  them  by  sight. 
But  it  is  my  notion  that  the  quickest  rabbits  of 
all  are  those  dislodged  by  half-frantic  dogs  and 
beaters  (who  thoroughly  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
the  thing)  from  these  small  '^  bunches,"  as  the 
country  folk  often  call  the  isolated  bushes  of 
furze,  &c. 

Dogs,  even  in  the  early  part  of  the  day,  whilst 
still    fresh    and   keen    as    mustard    on    rabbit  after 


i64  GUNS 

rabbit,  do  not  like  the  prickles  of  the  furze,  which 
are  scarcely  less  formidable  than  the  quills  of  the 
hedgehog.  So  they  commonly  make  much  to-do 
before  actually  getting  into  one  of  these  bushes. 
They  make  a  point  of  not  going  in  at  all  before 
they  have  satisfied  themselves  that  a  rabbit  is  there. 
A  trustworthy  terrier  or  spaniel  will,  with  rare 
exceptions,  be  able  to  tell  you  without  going  in 
whether  a  rabbit  is  lying  in  one  of  these  bushes. 
It  will  run  round  and  sniff,  now  on  the  ground, 
now  in  the  air.  If  a  rabbit  is  in  the  bush,  the  dog 
gives  tongue,  unless  it  is  one  of  the  absolutely  silent 
hunting  order,  and  even  then  its  behaviour  will 
usually  give  you  a  pretty  good  notion  of  whether 
you  are  to  have  a  shot  or  not.  Dogs,  well  or 
moderately  well  trained,  are  very  partial  to  this 
branch  of  rabbiting.  After  a  little  practice  they 
seem  quite  to  know  what  is  expected  from  them 
when  the  shooter  turns  towards  these  bushes. 
Running  forward,  they  work  round  bush  after  bush 
till  one  is  reached  that  clearly  holds  a  rabbit. 
Rabbits  have  a  way  of  lying  very  close  indeed  in 
these  bushes.  I  have  noticed  that  rabbits  in  the 
larger  but  thinner  coverts,  after  they  have  been 
repeatedly  hustled  about,  two  or  three  times  in  the 
same  week,  in  the  same  places,  often  start  up  from 
their  forms  well  in  front  of  the  dogs  which  are 
giving  tongue,  and  steal  right  away.  But,  in  the 
places  where  I  have  shot,  the  rabbit  which  is  lying 
in  the  isolated  furze-bush  is  far  less  inclined  to  stir 
when  he  hears  dogs,  beaters,   and  guns  who   are 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     165 

a  little  distance  away.  He  sticks  to  his  fortress. 
So  it  happens  that  the  shooter  has  time  to 
take  his  stand  deliberately  before  the  rabbit  bolts 
out. 

If  there  are  two  guns  shooting  these  bushes — 
more  than  two  is  not  in  my  view  at  all  desirable — 
they  should  take  up  their  positions,  of  course,  on 
different  sides.  If  you  are  by  yourself  you  will  be 
able  to  cover  a  great  deal  of  ground,  and  will  have 
a  chance  of  getting  a  fair  shot  at  whatever  spot  the 
rabbit  comes  out.  If  the  gamekeeper  is  with  you, 
he  beats  the  bush  and  cheers  on  the  dogs,  as  a  rule, 
from  the  opposite  side  to  yours,  hoping  to  make 
the  rabbit  bolt  towards  the  gun. 

But  you  often  cannot  be  at  all  sure  where  the 
rabbit  will  come  out,  or  in  what  direction  he  will  go 
when  out.  The  one  thing  sure  is  that  he  will  travel 
at  a  great  pace.  Sometimes  he  comes  out  to  bolt 
off  almost  between  your  legs  ;  sometimes  he  comes 
out  by  the  keeper,  and  takes  such  a  line  of  flight 
that  you  must  not  put  up  your  gun  for  fear  of  ^*  an 
accident."  The  dogs  being  so  near,  it  often  hap- 
pens that  you  dare  not  shoot  for  fear  of  touching 
one  of  them.  Occasionally  a  rabbit  going  full  pelt 
with  the  dogs  at  his  heels,  so  that  you  cannot  fire, 
will  turn  off  at  quite  a  sharp  angle,  and  then  it  is 
just  possible  that  you  may  be  able  to  take  him  at 
the  right  moment  without  risking  the  lives  of  the 
dogs  ;  but  such  shots  are  not  good  for  beginners. 
Any  fumbling  over  them  may  prove  disastrous,  for 
the  dogs  are  very  near,  though  not  absolutely  in 


i66  GUNS 

the  line  of  fire.  Rabbits  dislodged  from  these 
bushes  clearly  recognise  their  perilous  situation, 
and,  as  the  keeper  says,  they  are  ^*  mighty  quick." 
If  you  are  not  in  good  form,  this  sort  of  rabbit- 
shooting  "  finds  you  out "  as  soon  as  any  I 
know. 

It  is  pretty  sport.  On  a  certain  wild,  beautiful 
green  spot,  several  hundred  acres  in  extent,  and 
largely  sprinkled  over  with  bushes  such  as  these,  I 
generally  have  an  hour  or  so  of  this  kind  of  shoot- 
ing on  several  days  each  winter.  Sometimes  I  work 
these  bushes  alone,  with  the  aid  of  a  dog  or  two, 
sometimes  with  the  gamekeeper  and  with  another 
gun ;  and  I  always  regard  it  as  the  cream  of  that 
particular  day's  sport  among  the  rabbits,  if  any  are 
found  in  the  bushes.  From  long  experience  we 
all  come  to  gauge  fairly  well  the  likelihood  of  this 
or  that  bush  holding  a  rabbit  to-day,  even  before 
the  dogs  reach  it.  And  in  these  several  bushes 
—  close  to  the  denser  covert  —  in  the  case  of 
which  one  knows  exactly  where  to  stand,  the 
rabbits,  however  much  hustled,  always  retaining 
enough  presence  of  mind  to  make  for  a  thick  row 
of  blackthorn,  &c.,  close  at  hand.  One  may  take 
these  rabbits  at  any  distance  between,  say,  fifteen 
and  forty-five  yards.  Now  and  then  a  second 
barrel  is  fired  at  a  rabbit  distant  fifty  yards  or 
a  little  more  than  that,  but  not  often  with  effect. 
During  the  past  season  I  brought  off  a  long  broad- 
side shot  with  my  first  barrel  at  a  rabbit  in  the  open 
among  these  bushes  ;  the  distance  was  not  paced 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     167 

out  after  the  shot,  but  it  could  not  have  been  short 
of  a  full  sixty  yards.  It  was  the  longest  shot  I  had 
brought  off  for  many  years,  but  not  altogether  a 
satisfactory  one.  Perhaps  the  only  long  shots  at 
rabbits  or  hares  which  are  really  satisfactory,  are 
those  very  occasional  ones  when  the  animal  is  hit 
in  the  head,  and,  despite  the  distance,  killed  out- 
right. 

This    reminds    me    that    it    is    necessary  for  the 

gunner  to    know  how  to  put  wounded  creatures 

instantly  out  of  their  pain.     Do  not  hold  the  rabbit 

or  hare  by  the  back  legs  and  strike  a  sharp  blow 

downwards  on  to  the  back  of  the  head  or  neck. 

Many  men  with  hard  right  hand  can  and  do  kill 

rabbits  and  hares  in  this  way  by  one  quick  blow ; 

but  a  less  strong  and  practised  hand  will  bungle. 

Instead,  hold  the  rabbit  or  hare  by  the  back  legs, 

quickly  take  the  back  of  the  head  well  above  the 

neck  with  your  hand,  and  a  slight  pull  downwards 

instantly  kills  the  animal  :  see  that  your  grasp  is  well 

above  the  neck,  or  your  purpose  of  ending  the  pain  of 

the  animal  swiftly  will  not  be  effected.     Wounded 

birds  should  be  dealt  with  in  the  same  way.     It  is 

not  a  pleasant  subject  to  be  touched  upon,  is  it  ? 

But  it  must  not  be  shirked.     The  wounding  of  bird 

and  beast  of  chase,  which,  even  with  the  straightest 

shooters  in  the  world,  must  happen,  is  an  incident 

in  shooting  which  is  distasteful,  to  say  the  least,  to 

good  sportsmen.     And  there  are   days  when  you 

are  a  good  deal   wrung  by  the  pity  of  the  thing. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  treat  at  length  of  the  ethics 


i68  GUNS 

of  field  sports — shooting,  hunting,  and  angling.^ 
But  I  must  say  that  I  am  unconvinced  that  the 
keen  sportsman  is  necessarily  a  less  humane  man 
than  those  who  decry  our  field  sports  chiefly  on 
the  ground  that  we  have  no  right  to  inflict  pain  on 
living  things.  1  believe  it  is  a  narrow  and  mistaken 
view  to  take,  that  field  sports  brutalise  a  man.  The 
sporting  squire  of  '*  Locksley  Hall "  was,  to  his 
rival,  as  a  dog  which  **  hunts  in  dreams  "  ;  one  who 
would  hold  his  wife  as  *'  something  better  than  his 
dog,  a  little  dearer  than  his  horse."  In  reality,  as 
we  know  from  the  recantation  in  "  Locksley  Hall 
Sixty  Years  After,"  he  was  the  ^^  sound  and  honest 
rustic  Squire."  There  are  various  grounds  on 
which  the  three  great  English  field  sports  can  be 
defended,  if  ever  there  should  be  a  real  need  for 
defence.  One  of  the  strongest  of  these,  to  my 
thinking,  is  that,  by  these  fine  exercises  on  horse- 
back and  afoot,  we  are  storing  health  and  hardness 
against  the  stealing  years.  It  is  a  bounden  duty 
that  we  keep  supple  in  limb  so  long  as  possible  in 
life,  and  never  suffer  the  physical  part  of  us  to 
rust.  Field  sports  are  about  the  best  means  to  that 
end.  But  to  excel  in  these  pursuits,  to  be  racy  of 
the  chase,  we  should  begin  early  in  life.  One 
hears  of  men  who  do  not  take  to  shooting  till  they 
have  reached  middle  age,  and  who,  notwithstanding, 

^  Angling  was  called  by  Wordsworth  the  "blameless  sport." 
Greatly,  however,  as  I  care  for  and  believe  in  angling,  I  never  could 
bring  myself  to  think  that  the  question  of  pain  or  suffering  inflicted 
does  not  come  in  here  at  all. 


RABBITS,    PARTRIDGES,    PIGEONS     169 

get  a  complete  mastery  over  the  gun  ;  though  less 
often  than  one  does  of  men  who  begin  golf  late  in 
life  and  yet  come  to  play  very  well  ;  but  to  be 
something  of  the  real  hunter,  whether  you  wield 
horn,  fishing-rod,  or  gun,  you  must  be  at  it  from 
boyhood. 


D>\Y   •    I  IN    •   >^   •     CROUi 


BWTT         —      i^Cr'-.ne-ROli- 


CHAPTER   III 


ADVANCED    SHOOTING 
By  ARTHUR  B.   PORTMAN 


PHEASANT    SHOOTING 

For  a  great  number  of  years  now  pheasant-shooting 

has  been  very  popular  with  sportsmen  here  and  in 

other   parts   of    Europe,    and    most    novices    think 

when  seeing  these   birds  get  up,  out  of  low  scrub 

or  in  a  root  field,  that  they  are  extremely  easy  to 

kill.     I  can,  however,  after  many  years'  experience 

of  the  game,  and  having  assisted    in  some  of  the 

170 


PHEASANT   SHOOTING  171 

biggest  *'  shoots,"  assure  beginners  that  such  is  not 
the  case.  In  fact  no  bird  takes  more  killing,  or  is 
harder  to  shoot  neatly,  than  a  really  high  pheasant 
well  on  the  wing. 

To  give  some  idea  of  the  extent  to  which 
pheasants  have  increased  during  the  last  ninety  or 
a  hundred  years  :  I  remember  reading  in  an  old 
game-book  kept  at  Riddlesworth  Hall,  in  Norfolk 
— which  in  those  days  was  owned  by  the  famous 
racing  man  Mr.  T.  Thornhill,  and,  after  Holk- 
ham,  was  rightly  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  best 
sporting  estates  in  the  eastern  counties — the  follow- 
ing :  ^*  To-day  we  killed  ninety-nine  cock  pheasants, 
a  feat  never  before  performed  in  Norfolk,  and  not 
likely  to  be  done  again."  This  was  in  the  year 
18 14,  and  the  danger  and  folly  of  trying  to 
dip  into  the  future,  and  predict  what  is  likely  to 
happen,  has  of  course  long  since  been  proved  in 
this  part  of  England,  where  huge  bags  are  of 
frequent  occurrence.  Within  the  last  few  years 
over  two  thousand  pheasants  have  been  shot  in  a 
day  at  Sandringham  and  other  places  in  Norfolk, 
Suffolk,  and  elsewhere  ;  estates  where  notably  large 
scores  have  been  made,  outside  the  eastern  coun- 
ties, being  Croxteth  Hall,  Lord  Sefton's  Lancashire 
estate ;  Bradgate,  during  the  reign  of  the  late  Lord 
Stamford  of  racing  fame  ;  and  Highclere  Castle, 
where  the  present  Lord  Carnarvon  has  had  some 
immense  bags,  and  where  in  1902  a  party  of  five 
guns,  of  which  I  was  one,  got  1302  pheasants  in 
a  day. 


172  GUNS 

As  to  what  breed  of  these  birds — which  there  is 
Httle  doubt  were  to  be  found  in  this  island  prior  to 
the  Conquest — fly  best,  there  is  much  diversity  of 
opinion :  personally  I  believe  in  the  old-fashioned 
breed  now  so  little  seen,  being  under  the  impression 
that  they,  through  being  lighter  and  also  not  so  fat, 
flew  much  better  than  the  present  birds,  which  are 
almost  invariably  the  ring-necked  kind. 

To  every  boy  on  a  fresh  October  morning  there  is 
excitement  and  joy  in  walking  round  some  hedge- 
rows, and  possibly  going  through  a  few  small 
spinneys,  on  the  chance  of  picking  up,  besides 
some  bunnies  (which,  alas  !  owing  to  the  Hares 
and  Rabbits  Bill,  are  not  so  plentiful  as  they  used 
to  be  in  my  boyhood,  around  the  fields),  a  few 
outlying  pheasants,  birds  that  get  up  with  a  whirr 
and  bustle,  and — although  of  course  an  absurdly 
easy  and  uninteresting  mark  to  the  experienced 
gunner — afford  the  youthful  sportsman  the  most 
intense  joy.  If  by  chance  he  should  succeed  in 
killing  the  bird,  instead,  as  is  most  probable,  of 
blowing  away  a  few  tail  feathers — if  he  hit  it  at  all 
— then  his  pride  is  immense,  and  most  rightly  so 
too.  For  believe  me,  my  readers,  a  boy  who  is  not 
dead  keen  about  everything — be  it  work,  sports,  or 
games — will  grow  up  into  a  prematurely  old  and 
discontented  man.  To  get  bored  and  blaze  is, 
alas  !  only  too  easy  for  anybody ;  but  if  in  our 
early  shooting  days  we  are  not  madly  keen  and 
ready  to  face  any  weather  and  any  conditions, 
however  unpleasant,  for  the  sake  of  a  bit  of  sport — 


PHEASANT   SHOOTING  173 

be  it  ratting,  rabbiting,  or  what  not — long  ere 
middle  age  the  zest  and  healthy  amusement  derived 
from  outdoor  recreation  of  this  kind  will  have 
flown,  never  to  return. 

A  truce,  though,  to  moralising  :  let  us  turn  back 
to  the  great  game.  Having  begun  in  this  modest 
fashion,  the  youth  will  shortly  be  probably  asked 
to  a  few  very  small  covert  shoots  by  relations  or 
friends,  and  then  will  get  some  insight  as  to 
the  flight  of  the  'Mongtail"  when  really  well 
on  the  wing,  and  will  learn  how  hard  it  is 
to  shoot  him  properly ;  but  of  course,  as  a 
beginner,  the  youngster's  chances  at  these  early 
shoots  will  be  much  more  confined  to  ground 
game  and  the  few  pheasants  that  fly  back  over  the 
beaters'  heads.  These,  mind  you,  frequently  afford 
far  better  and  more  sporting  shots  than  the  for- 
ward going  birds,  and  certainly,  if  the  wood  is  at 
all  a  thick  one,  are  most  excellent  practice  for 
anybody  to  bring  down  neatly  through  the  trees. 
Having  had  a  certain  amount  of  this  sort  of 
shooting,  the  young  man,  as  he  has  now  become, 
is  probably  invited  to  a  few  larger  parties,  and  this 
means  being  frequently  sent  forward  and  getting 
good  ''stands."  This  is  the  time  when  every 
shooter,  no  matter  how  nicely  he  may  be  able  to 
knock  over  a  few  birds  going  back,  or  getting  out 
of  roots  or  what  not,  realises  how  terribly  flurrying 
and  upsetting  is  anything  like  a  big  rise  of  pheas- 
ants. For  they  come  at  you  crossing  each  other 
and   distracting   your   eye,  so   that,  ere   you   have 


174  GUNS 

decided  which  bird  to  fire  at,  the  entire  bunch 
are  past  and  gone,  and  by  the  time  a  wild  shot  is 
eventually  discharged  the  chance  of  killing  any- 
thing has  become  highly  improbable.  The  thing 
to  do,  the  moment  birds  begin  to  come,  is  to  fix 
your  mind  upon  one,  and  try  to  kill  it  wdth  your 
first  barrel.  If  you  fail,  give  the  same  bird  your 
second  barrel,  and  never  try  to  bag  another  bird 
with  your  second  shot,  unless  quite  sure  you  have 
killed  the  one  originally  aimed  at.  To  all  who 
have  not  had  much  experience,  and  to  many  others 
who  all  their  lives  remain  nervous  bad  shots,  w^hen 
a  big  flush  of  pheasants  occurs,  I  am  certain  this 
is  the  most  sound  advice,  although  of  course,  as  I 
know  only  too  well,  hard  to  follow  in  the  bustle 
and  excitement  which  a  w^arm  corner  always  natu- 
rally produces. 

Having  by  now  got  to  the  stage  of  being  asked 
about  to  ^^  shoots "  of  more  or  less  importance, 
for  the  sportsman  to  improve  and  become  a  first- 
class  shot,  it  is  only  a  question  of  practice  and,  of 
course,  natural  aptitude,  with  a  true  eye — for  no 
amount  of  shooting  would  ever  make  some  men 
even  reasonably  good  marksmen. 

It  is  really  remarkable  how  some  of  the  finest 
shots  in  the  land — and  I  know  most  of  them  and 
have  shot  w^ith  them — have  their  off  days,  when  no 
bird,  however  easy,  seems  within  their  power  to 
kill.  The  general  reason  for  this  is  a  stomach 
out  of  order,  which  prevents  the  hand  and  eye  from 
w^orking  in  unison  ;  but  other  things  may  put  one 


PHEASANT   SHOOTING  175 

off,  nothing  more  so,  in  fact,  than  a  coat  or  waist- 
coat which  causes  the  least  drag  on  the  arms,  and 
thereby  prevents  a  free  swing  :  without  this  ease, 
and  unless  he  knows  by  practice  how  far  to  let  the 
gun  go  one  way  or  the  other,  a  man  will  for  ever 
rank  amongst  the  duffers.  No  coats  I  have  ever 
tried  are  more  easy  and  better  cut  for  the  game  than 
those  made  by  Rice  Brothers  of  New  Bond  Street. 
Besides  the  coat,  it  is  of  course  essential  that  your 
gun  fits  you  properly,  as  although,  to  be  sure,  there 
is  a  lot  of  rubbish  talked  about  guns,  there  can  be 
no  question  that  a  weapon  either  too  short  or  too 
long  in  the  stock  will  baulk  and  put  off  anybody. 

Of  course  there  have  been  many  books  written 
upon  shooting  by  men  who  tell  you  that  to  kill  a 
bird  you  must  aim  so  and  so,  a  yard  or  what  not 
in  front  of  it,  according  to  its  flight,  whether  a  wind 
is  behind  it,  what  is  the  distance  ;  and  who  are 
ready  with  all  sorts  of  other  advice,  which  really, 
when  it  comes  to  the  test  in  the  field,  is  absolutely 
impossible.  I  should  like  to  see  the  man  who,  when 
pheasants  were  coming  fast,  could  say,  '*  Well,  I  shot 
a  yard  and  a  half  ahead  of  that  bird,  and  two  feet  in 
front  of  the  other."  The  whole  thing  is  rubbish, 
like  trying  to  define  putting  on  side  at  billiards,  this 
being  simply  a  matter  of  ^^  touch  " ;  ^  whilst  fine 
shooting  and  killing  the  birds  well — I  mean  by 
that   always   hitting    them    in    the   neck   or   head, 

^  In  the  course  of  stern  struggles  at  billiards  and  pyramids  with 
Mr.  Portman  in  the  past,  I  confess  I  have  wished  once  or  twice  that 
his  touch  was  not  quite  so  good. — Ed. 


176  GUNS 

and  so  ensuring  a  death  virtually  instantaneous, 
instead  of  fluffing  and  knocking  the  poor  things 
about  in  a  manner  that  causes  them  to  fly  and 
flutter  on  in  pain — must  always  be  a  question  of 
swing,  and  letting  your  gun  follow  a  bird,  which 
only  can  be  acquired  by  practice  and,  as  I  said 
before,  natural  aptitude.  Of  course  many  men, 
especially  those  who  have  taken  to  shooting  long 
after  their  youth  has  passed,  are  greatly  helped  by 
going  to  some  of  the  shooting  parks  now  estab- 
lished round  London,  where  the  instructor,  standing 
behind,  sees  and  tells  the  sportsman  who  is  firing 
just  what  he  does  wrong,  whether  aiming  at  a  live 
bird,  rabbit,  or  clay  pigeon.  This  is  all  very  well 
and  no  doubt  does  good,  but  nothing  will  ever 
make  a  man  soar  above  anything  except  extremely 
moderate  shooting,  unless  he  frequently  assists  at 
shoots  in  the  country. 

GROUSE   AND    PARTRIDGE    DRIVING 

At  the  beginning  of  my  remarks  on  these  forms  of 
sport,  to  many  people  the  most  fascinating  there 
are,  I  would  draw  the  careful  attention  of  my 
readers,  of  no  matter  what  age,  to  the  fact  that  they 
are  far  more  dangerous  than  shooting  in  covert. 
The  reason  is  not  hard  to  find.  Owing  to  birds 
which  are  driven  usually  flying  low,  unless  in  the 
case,  which  sometimes  but  not  often  happens,  of 
partridges  being  put  over  fairly  high  belts,  they 
fly    at    a    height    which    makes    a    careless    shot 


PARTRIDGE    DRIVING  177 

extremely  dangerous  for  his  neighbours.  This  being 
so,  it  is  most  important  for  the  shooter  never  by 
any  possible  chance  to  follow  a  bird  round  with 
gun  to  shoulder,  as  I  have  seen  some  men  do 
who  ought  to  have  known  better  ;  also,  unless  the 
bird  shot  at  is  quite  high  enough  to  be  perfectly 
safe,  on  no  occasion  shoot  at  it  except  well  in 
front  of  your  butt,  or  else  well  behind  the  line  of 
guns.  In  turning  round  to  shoot  at  birds  that 
have  passed  the  butts,  your  gun  should  not  be  put 
up  to  the  shoulder,  as  I  said  before,  until  you  have 
faced  about  in  the  butt  or  whatever  place  of  hiding 
you  may  be  in.  Careful  observance  of  these  rules 
may  help  to  prevent  accidents  which  have  so  fre- 
quently occurred  in  driving,  by  which  many  a 
man  has  lost  an  eye.  Another  most  important 
thing  is  not  to  fire  shots  at  anything  between  drives, 
as  many  nasty  accidents  have  happened  by  people 
shooting  whilst  going  from  one  set  of  stands  to 
another,  for  then  men  are  often  out  of  line  taking 
what  they  think  is  a  short  cut.  Another  really  sound 
piece  of  advice  is,  take  out  cartridges  when  getting 
over  a  fence,  however  small,  or  across  a  ditch.  In 
these  days  of  hammerless-ejector  guns  it  is  surely 
but  little  trouble,  and  if  the  cartridges  remain  in  the 
gun,  a  slip,  however  slight,  may  bring  about  an 
accident  which  may  lead  to  appalling  results,  even 
with  the  gun  at  *'  safety." 

Having  given  this  lecture,  which  is  not  written 
in  any  spirit  of  interference,  but  owing  simply  to 

the  knowledge  from  long  experience  that  it  should 

M 


178  GUNS 

be  followed  by  everybody,  I  will  turn  to  the  sport. 
To  commence  with,  we  will  talk  about  that  most 
fascinating  game,  grouse  -  shooting,  which  has 
greater  charm  for  many  sportsmen  than  any  other 
kind  of  sport,  because  of  the  wild  and  interesting 
country  in  which  it  is  usually  pursued.  Of  course  for 
big  bags  Yorkshire  stands  far  ahead,  and  at  Wemmer- 
gill.  High  Force,  Bolton  Abbey,  Askrigg,  &c.,  huge 
numbers  of  grouse  have  been  accounted  for,  which, 
take  them  all  round,  are  not  to  be  beaten.  The 
biggest  thing  ever  done  single-handed  was  the 
work  of  that  fine  shot,  Lord  Walsingham,  he 
having  on  the  Bluberhouse,  Yorkshire,  killed  by 
himself  upwards  of  a  thousand  grouse  in  a  day's 
driving.  This  shows  extraordinary  endurance,  as 
I  believe  on  the  day  he  made  this  bag.  Lord  Wal- 
singham fired  well  over  thirteen  hundred  cartridges 
— an  immense  strain  on  the  nerves.  Probably  two 
of  the  finest  moors  out  of  Yorkshire  are  Abbey- 
stead  in  Lancashire,  and  Ruabon  Hills  moors  in 
Wales.  Then  in  Scotland,  places  with  a  deservedly 
good  reputation  are  Moy,  Hunthill,  Lochendorb, 
Meallmore,  and  the  first  of  these  moors  holds  the 
record  for  sport  on  the  other  side  of  the  Border. 

Now  to  turn  to  the  actual  sport  of  grouse-driving 
and  how  it  is  done.  Of  course  almost  everywhere  in 
Yorkshire  birds  are  driven  even  on  the  ''  Twelfth," 
as  they  would  never  allow  people  to  get  near  by 
walking,  but  in  most  parts  of  Scotland  grouse  are 
*^  walked  "  early  in  August,  and  driving  only  taken  to 
when  the  birds  have  become  too  wild  to  get  near  in 


PARTRIDGE    DRIVING  179 

any  other  way.  A  young  grouse  sitting  well  is  pro- 
bably the  easiest  of  all  birds  to  shoot  early  in 
the  season,  but  not  when  it  has  grown  wilder ; 
and  an  old  bird  who  sits  watching  on  the  top  of  a 
hillock,  and  disappears  down  a  gully  almost  the 
moment  the  sportsman  spies  him,  is  very  hard 
to  kill.  At  the  notable  moors  of  the  far 
North  I  have  mentioned,  no  walking  is  done,  and 
even  by  the  20th  of  August  grouse  at,  we  will  say, 
Lochendorb,  where  a  lot  of  the  ground  is  flat  and 
birds  can  be  seen  for  a  long  way,  are  easily  missed  ; 
whilst  if  they  come  full  speed  off  some  of  the  ^'tops" 
with  the  wind  behind  them,  the  man  who  cannot 
get  off  his  gun  quickly  will  find  himself  with  a  very 
limited  number  of  birds  to  pick  up  when  the  drive 
is  over. 

Talking  of  the  drive  being  over  reminds  me 
that  nothing  is  more  reprehensible  or  dangerous 
than  for  a  man  to  move  out  of  his  butt  until 
the  beaters  have  got  quite  past,  as  there  may  easily 
be  some  birds  sitting  tight  close  to  the  butts ; 
and  by  moving  you  spoil  the  sport  of  other 
people,  even  if  happily  it  leads  to  no  wretched 
accident.  One  of  the  things  about  grouse-driving 
which  some  people  find  boring,  especially  in  Scot- 
land, where  it  is  in  many  parts  extremely  difficult 
to  get  a  sufficient  number  of  beaters,  is  the  long 
wait  between  the  drives ;  but  then  if  the  day  is 
only  fine,  and  the  sportsman  wise  enough  to  be 
pleased  by  the  charms  of  scenery  which  he  will 
find  to  perfection  in  the  majority  of  moors  at  any 


i8o  GUNS 

rate  north  of  Perth,  the  time  soon  passes.  Be- 
sides, if  this  sort  of  thing  does  not  appeal,  there 
is  always  a  quiet  pipe  and  chats  with  friends  in 
the  neighbouring  butts  to  bring  one  to  the  exciting 
moment  when  the  first  birds,  probably  a  stray  old 
cock  or  so,  begin  to  come.  Shortly  afterwards  the 
coveys  will  be  on  you,  and  then,  until  the  drive  is 
over,  quick  eyes  and  quick  shooting  must  be  the 
order  of  the  day,  if  a  fair  bag  is  to  be  made  in 
Scotland,  where  the  vast  masses  of  grouse  to  be 
seen  in  a  good  year  upon  a  Yorkshire  moor  are 
of  course  never  to  be  found. 

When  the  ground  is  flat  and  you  see  the  low-flying 
grouse  come  skimming  towards  you,  there  is  a  great 
temptation  to  shoot  at  birds  too  early;  or  sometimes 
people,  owing  to  lack  of  experience  or  judgment, 
wait  until  the  grouse  are  quite  close  to  them,  which 
means  at  so  near  a  range  that  the  shot  in  a  hard- 
shooting  gun  has  not  had  time  to  spread  at  all, 
and  therefore  it  is  almost  like  shooting  with  a 
bullet — whilst  the  second  barrel  of  your  first  gun  (if 
shooting  with  two  guns, quite  necessary  to  everybody 
driving)  has  to  be  fired  after  the  birds  have  passed 
the  line,  and  your  second  gun  is  quite  useless, 
at  any  rate  as  regards  that  covey.  A  simple  and 
excellent  thing  to  do  in  flat  ground  is  to  step, 
roughly,  about  forty  yards  straight  in  front  of  your 
butt  and  place  there  some  small  white  thing  in 
the  heather,  either  a  piece  of  paper  or  handker- 
chief. This  won't  turn  the  grouse,  and,  by  shoot- 
ing at  them  the  moment  they  get  about  opposite 


PARTRIDGE    DRIVING  i8i 

your  mark,  you  will  stand  a  good  chance  of 
getting  in  two,  three,  or  possibly  four  barrels,  if 
really  quick,  with  a  fair  chance  of  success.  In 
Yorkshire,  with  the  gigantic  packs  which  come 
over  the  guns,  it  may  not  be  quite  so  important 
as  where  they  are  scarcer,  but  of  course  every- 
where the  man  who  shoots  the  quickest  and  with 
most  sense  will  make  the  biggest  bags. 

A  few  words  more  ere  leaving  the  grouse.  I 
have  spoken  of  flat  ground,  which  is  naturally  by 
far  the  easiest  to  shoot  over ;  but  in  many  places  of 
course  the  birds  come  swinging  round  the  sides  of 
or  over  hills  without  the  least  warning.  Then  it  is 
a  case  of  shooting  quickly  indeed,  and  the  game 
becomes  far  more  dangerous,  as  a  follow  round  at 
such  birds  may  often  lead  to  something  terrible 
happening.  It  is  far  better  to  miss  endless  grouse, 
or  let  any  number  of  them  go  by  without  even 
firing,  than  to  run  the  risk  of  injuring  some  person, 
which  may  produce  lifelong  regret  and  misery. 

Now  for  the  partridge,  to  my  thinking  a  far 
more  difficult  bird  to  shoot  than  its  great  rival 
of  the  heather,  for  a  grouse,  if  deciding  to  go 
to  a  certain  place,  will  not  usually  turn  from  its 
flight ;  but  a  partridge  frequently  twists  and  turns 
in  the  most  extraordinary  manner  when  seeing  the 
guns,  after  getting  over  a  hedge  or  what  not.  One 
of  the  first  people  who  went  in  for  partridge-driving 
systematically  was  the  late  General  Hall,  who  had 
some  splendid  sport  at  Six-Mile  Bottom,  of  which 
the  Duke  of  Cambridge  has  now  the  lease  ;  but  from 


i82  GUNS 

what  I  have  seen  of  the  place  when  shooting  there — 
as  I  have  had  the  honour  to  upon  several  occasions 
of  late  years — I  fancy  birds  are  not  so  plentiful  as 
they  used  to  be  in  the  General's  time.  Still  it  is 
a  fine  *^  shoot."  Other  great  places  in  this  district 
for  partridges  can  be  mentioned  in  Stitchworth 
and  Dullingham — which  combined  make  a  grand 
partridge  manor,  and  are  now  shot  over  by  Lord 
Ellesmere — Cheveley  Park,  and  Chippenham  Park. 
Other  wonderful  grounds  to  be  found  in  the 
eastern  counties  are  Elvedon,  Holkham,  Euston, 
Sudbourne,  Houghton,  Sandringham,  Rendlesham, 
&c.  Then  in  Hampshire  there  is  the  renowned 
Grange,  where  Lord  Ashburton  has  made  the 
record  bag  for  these  birds,  and  there  are  several 
other  places  in  this  part  of  England  where  great 
sport  is  obtained  at  the  present  day :  but  nowhere 
has  partridge  shooting  improved  so  much  as  in 
Nottinghamshire,  notably  at  those  neighbouring 
estates,  Welbeck  and  Rufford  Abbeys.  Upon  the 
former  last  year  the  Duke  of  Portland  and  his 
friends  killed,  one  day,  627  brace  of  partridges. 
The  reason  why  these  birds  have  increased  so 
immensely  in  England  during  the  past  few  decades 
is  undoubtedly  to  be  sought  in  driving,  by  which, 
especially  early  in  the  season,  the  old  birds  are 
killed  off,  and  the  younger  and  consequently  less 
quarrelsome  ones  left,  when  the  nesting  season 
comes  round,  to  carry  on  the  race.  It  is  also, 
however,  largely  due  to  the  greatly  increased  care 
taken  in  changing  eggs,  putting  down  Hungarians, 


PARTRIDGE    DRIVING  183 

&c.,  which,  with  the  keeping  down  of  vermin, 
means  a  great  deal.  In  former  days,  before  driving 
became,  as  it  now  is,  general  on  most  estates,  what 
few  partridges  could  be  got  at  were  killed  walking 
in  September,  and  if  they  did  not  happen  to  be 
very  plentiful,  nobody  minded.  Now,  with  most 
shooters  extremely  fond  of  driving,  matters  are 
very  different,  and  doubtless  the  improvement  will 
continue. 

Talking  of  walking  partridges  reminds  me  that  one 
of  the  best  places  possible  for  this  game  is  Escrick 
Park,  near  York,  where  in  1896  I  remember  that, 
shooting  for  ten  days,  a  party  of  four  guns,  of 
whom  I  was  one,  got  2008  birds,  which  means  the 
splendid  average  for  walking  of  more  than  200 
partridges  a  day.  The  great  trouble  in  driving 
partridges  is  to  get  men  who  can  work  them  suc- 
cessfully, as  very  few  keepers  seem  to  understand 
the  game  properly,  and  will  not  get  out  their 
flankers  right,  or  will  at  any  rate  do  something 
intensely  foolish  or  boring  :  nothing  is  more  aggra- 
vating than  to  see  lots  of  birds  breaking  away 
either  to  the  right  or  left  instead  of  coming  over 
the  guns.  To  a  man  who  will  only  use  intelligence, 
the  task  set  is  not  so  very  difficult,  provided  the 
wind  does  not  happen  to  be  blowing  adversely,  for 
nobody  can  get  partridges  to  go  in  any  numbers 
up  wind  ;  but,  like  a  great  general,  a  high-class  and 
clever  keeper  at  this  game  is  seldom  to  be  found, 
and  in  many  years'  shooting  I  have  met  only  with 
four  or  five.     To  manage  grouse  seems  to  me  more 


184  GUNS 

easy,  and,  at  the  places  I  have  been  to,  has  almost 
invariably  proved  far  more  successful.  To  shoot 
partridges  well,  you  should  bear  in  mind  and  apply 
almost  all  I  have  mentioned  as  to  the  way  to  kill 
grouse  ;  but  never  forget,  my  readers,  be  you 
young  or  old,  that  it  is  impossible  to  be  too  care- 
ful in  this  most  delightful  but — unless  you  are  very 
careful — extremely  dangerous  sport. 


PART  III.— DOGS 

By  ALEX.   INNES   SHAND 


.^.^r  ir^^  R 


F<   UN 


CHAPTER  I 


DOGS    IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIFE 


The  dog  is  the  boy's  best  companion.  ''Walks 
with  my  tutor"  are  all  very  well,  but  walks  with 
my  dog  are  what  he  really  enjoys.  The  dog  has 
perhaps  the  best  of  it,  in  point  of  intelligence, 
but  the  boy  gradually  picks  up  a  great  deal.  The 
boy  does  not  mind  tearing  his  jacket,  and  often 
lands  at  home  after  a  ramble  in  a  condition  that 
scandalises    his    parents    and   guardians  ;    but    the 

dog  has   decidedly  the  pull    of   him  in    following 

187 


i88  DOGS 

out  their  common  pursuits.  He  cares  even  less 
for  his  coat  than  the  boy  for  his  jacket.  He  can 
go  grubbing  among  thorny  hedge  -  roots,  and 
crawling  along  damp  ditches ;  he  can  even  carry 
his  researches  into  fox-earths  and  rabbit-burrows. 
Consequently  he  is  always  coming  upon  delight- 
ful surprises,  startling  rabbits  from  their  seats 
and  hares  from  their  forms,  and  setting  all  the 
bird-folk  of  the  hedge  in  commotion.  The  boy 
envies  him  the  sharp  yelp  of  fierce  delight  when 
he  snaps  vainly  at  the  fud  of  a  scuttling  rabbit, 
and  perhaps  only  misses  by  a  mouthful  of  flick  ; 
though,  if  he  could,  he  would  not  care  to  worry 
the  rat  or  the  w^easel,  who  has  been  the  victim  of 
a  sudden  spring.  On  the  other  hand,  he  has 
interests  the  dog  cannot  share.  The  thorns 
shake  :  there  is  the  scream  of  the  startled  black- 
bird, and  there  is  the  nest  with  the  young  newly 
feathered,  and  on  the  point  of  taking  flight.  Or 
when  the  wood-pigeon  makes  a  dash  from  the 
farther  side  of  the  fir,  up  goes  the  boy,  hand  over 
hand,  and  it  is  the  turn  of  the  dog  to  look  on  in 
disgust. 

I  have  been  talking  of  ''  the  open-air  boy,"  and 
I  cannot  help  pitying  boys  who  have  their  homes 
in  a  city.  It  is  hardly  fair  on  a  dog  to  keep  him 
in  town  ;  it  is  like  caging  a  lark,  accustomed  to 
soar,  and  tantalising  him  with  a  miserable  scrap 
of  turf.  A  terrier  in  London,  looking  at  the  world 
through  area  railings,  chasing  cats  who  always 
escape  him  in  the  back  yard,   naturally    overeats 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL    LIFE  189 

himself,  gets  out  of  condition,  and  becomes  mis- 
anthropic. By  nature,  though  he  is  death  on 
vermin,  he  is  the  most  amiable  of  animals  ;  but  in 
town  he  snaps  savagely  at  the  milkman's  legs,  or 
makes  a  snatch  at  the  seat  of  the  trousers  of  the 
butcher's  boy.  The  worst  is  that  his  master  has 
to  bear  the  blame,  and  is  for  ever  getting  into  hot 
water.  Perhaps  the  business  is  settled  by  the  dog 
being  stolen,  if  he  is  worth  his  salt.  For  dog- 
stealing  is  a  very  lucrative  trade,  and  professional 
villains  are  up  to  all  manner  of  dodges  and  devices. 
They  carry  strong-smelling  delicacies  about  with 
them  that  no  dog  can  resist ;  they  watch  for  their 
opportunity  at  the  corner  of  a  lane,  and,  when  you 
look  over  your  shoulder,  your  favourite  is  gone. 
He  is  growling  at  the  bottom  of  a  sack,  or  in  the 
depths  of  a  big  pocket,  with  a  strong  hand  pressed 
upon  his  muzzle.  Of  course  one  is  sorry  for  the 
boy,  but  far  more  grieved  for  the  dog.  Did  you 
ever  read  ^'Tickler  among  the  Thieves,"  by  Dr. 
John  Brown,  author  of  ^'  Rab  and  his  Friends." 
If  not,  the  sooner  you  get  the  book  the  better, 
for  Dr.  Brown  knew  more  about  dogs  than  most 
men.  I  don't  mean  about  their  breeds  or  their 
ailments,  but  about  the  inner  nature,  which  it 
should  be  your  pleasure  to  draw  out.  Tickler  had 
been  petted  and  pampered,  and  the  change  to  the 
den  of  the  thief,  who  punched  his  head  and  kept 
him  on  coarse  commons,  nearly  broke  the  heart  of 
the  poor  little  fellow.  That  the  story  had  a  happy 
ending,   that   Tickler  was   restored  to  the  bosom 


iQo  DOGS 

of  his  family,  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  moral,  for 
Tickler  had  a  very  unusual  piece  of  luck.  It  was 
more  likely  that,  like  Uncle  Tom  of  ^*  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin" — another  book  you  ought  to  read — he 
would  have  been  sold  into  slavery,  and  changed  a 
kind  for  a  careless  or  brutal  master.  And  you 
may  be  sure  that  dogs  have  longer  memories  than 
you  fancy.  You  have  probably  read  the  Odyssey 
with  cribs,  for  I  take  it  that  you  are  not  much  at 
home  in  the  Greek.  Then  you  remember  how 
Ulysses'  dog  recognised  him  at  once,  when  he  had 
been  cruising  for  many  years  among  the  Greek 
islands  on  his  way  back  from  Troy.  I  suspect 
Horace  was  drawing  the  long-bow,  or,  to  speak 
more  correctly,  indulging  in  poetic  license,  when 
he  makes  the  dog  recognise  his  old  master  at  the 
first  sniff.  Much  more  natural  is  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
scene  in  ''Old  Mortality,"  when  Henry  Morton 
comes  back  from  the  Dutch  wars  to  his  home  on 
the  Clyde.  The  old  spaniel  he  left  behind,  barks 
at  the  stranger,  then  smells  round  him,  and  finally 
jumps  up  and  fawns.  ''The  creature  kens  you," 
exclaims  the  old  housekeeper.  That  gradual  recog- 
nition is  true  to  the  life  ;  but  Scott  knew  more 
about  dogs  than  Homer,  and  at  least  as  much  as 
Dr.  Brown. 

By  the  way,  if  any  one  is  fool  enough  to  laugh  at 
you  for  making  a  friend  of  your  dog  and  loving 
him,  refer  him  to  Sir  Walter,  and  read  Lockhart's 
"  Life."  The  most  delightful  writer  since  Shake- 
speare, he  still   amuses  hundreds  of  thousands  of 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL    LIFE  191 

people.  He  made  an  immense  fortune,  though  he 
was  unlucky  enough  to  lose  it.  He  was  honoured 
by  the  most  learned  and  the  noblest  in  the  land. 
But  next  to  his  children,  he  delighted  in  his  dogs, 
and  however  hard  he  might  be  writing,  his  doors 
were  never  closed  to  one  or  the  other.  In  the 
country,  whether  at  Ashestiel  or  Abbotsford,  his 
window  was  always  open,  so  that  they  might  go 
freely  out  and  in.  When  his  famous  deerhound 
Maida  lived,  Maida  always  mounted  guard  in  his 
study ;  when  Maida  was  off  duty,  he  was  relieved 
by  Hintee,  a  solemn  cat.  As  great  a  favourite  was 
the  bulldog  Camp  ;  and  when  Camp  died  in  Edin- 
burgh of  old  age  and  infirmities,  Scott  buried  him 
with  his  own  hands  in  the  back  garden,  and  de- 
clined an  invitation  to  dinner  on  account  of  the 
loss  of  a  dear  old  friend.  He  had  dogs  of  all 
sorts,  and  when  he  went  out  for  a  ride  or  a  walk, 
he  was  always  attended  by  a  canine  tail — a  "  tail  " 
was  the  retinue  of  the  old  Highland  chief.  There 
were  deerhounds  for  show  and  beauty  and  saga- 
city ;  there  were  greyhounds  for  coursing,  of  which 
he  was  very  fond ;  there  were  setters  and  pointers 
for  his  guests  to  shoot  over  ;  and  there  was  always 
a  tagrag-and-bobtail  of  terriers,  which  I  believe 
amused  him  the  most.  He  tells  how  the  stately 
old  Maida  was  tempted  "  into  frolics  with  the 
youngsters,  but  when  he  caught  his  master's  eye, 
fell  back  upon  his  dignity,  seeming  to  say,  ^*  Ha' 
done  now  ;  cease  your  fooling."  He  studied  those 
dogs  as  he  studied  human  nature.      He  mentions 


192  DOGS 

one  '^  shamefaced  little  terrier  "  who  would  sneak 
away  and  hide  himself  at  the  slightest  reproof,  and 
could  only  be  drawn  out  of  his  retreat  by  the 
sound  of  a  meat-chopper  when  the  dinner  hour  was 
past  and  hunger  had  got  the  better  of  him.  And 
he  passed  a  broken  night  of  great  anxiety  when 
another  little  fellow  had  dropped  behind  a  riding 
party  and  gone  astray  on  the  moors.  When  I  get 
on  Scott  and  his  dogs  I  have  mounted  a  hobby, 
and  I  could  go  on  scribbling  for  ever.  They  crop 
up  in  all  his  novels  and  poems,  and  the  scenes  and 
the  characters  are  all  taken  from  the  life.  Lufra, 
of  ^'The  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  is  one  of  his  fleetest 
greyhounds  ;  Maida  is  the  Bevis  of  Sir  Henry  Lee 
in  '^Woodstock,"  and  he  thrusts  his  muzzle,  in 
"  Ivanhoe,"  into  the  hand  of  Cedric  the  Saxon  in 
his  hall  of  Rotherwood.  Wasp,  who  followed  the 
fortunes  of  Bertram  in  ^^  Guy  Mannering/'  we  know 
well ;  and  Mustards  and  Peppers  were  as  plentiful 
about  the  doors  of  Abbotsford  as  at  Dandie 
Dinmont's  homestead  at  Charlieshope.  Then  the 
comical  situations  are  as  true  to  realities  as  any 
of  the  Scotch  pictures  of  Sir  David  Wilkie ;  and 
if  you  have  not  laughed  at  ^'The  Blind  Fiddler," 
or  '^The  Penny  Wedding,"  the  sooner  you  do  so 
the  better.  But  my  hobby  is  bolting  with  me  again, 
and  I  must  pull  up. 

Scott  would  have  been  the  man  to  consult  about 
the  best  kind  of  dog  to  make  a  companion  of,  but 
Scott  is  gone.  I  have  kept  a  good  many  sorts 
myself,  from  deerhounds  stately  as  Maida,  down  to 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIFE  193 

the  toy  terrier  I  could  smuggle  into  a  coat-pocket 
when  I  went  travelling  abroad.  I  found  by  the 
way,  he  was  always  considered  an  acquisition  to 
the  party  when  he  came  up  to  breathe  like  an 
otter  and  insisted  on  crawling  on  to  my  lap.  But 
my  personal  fancy  is  for  terriers,  and  specially  for 
Aberdeen  terriers.  I  seldom  go  for  a  walk  without 
having  two  or  three  trotting  at  my  heels — though 
indeed  ^'  trotting  at  my  heels  "  is  another  poetic 
license,  for  unless  when  walking  through  pheasant 
coverts  or  over  ground  swarming  with  rabbits,  they 
are  here,  there,  and  everywhere — for  the  general 
characteristic  of  the  terrier  is  restless  activity,  and 
his  great  charm  is  his  irrepressible  curiosity.  His 
ears,  or  at  least  one  of  them,  is  always  cocked  ; 
nothing,  above  or  below,  escapes  his  notice  ;  and  I 
have  one  old  dog  who  diverted  the  attention  of  a 
village  school-treat  by  following  with  wrapt  atten- 
tion the  flight  of  a  calico  balloon.  It  was  a  puzzle 
altogether  beyond  his  experience,  and  when  he 
shook  his  head  after  trying  vainly  to  solve  the 
problem,  I  never  saw  a  dog  look  more  disgusted. 

A  queer  contradiction  in  the  terrier  with  his 
restless  activity  is  his  economising  of  the  work  that 
must  be  done.  He  is  always  going  to  and  fro, 
changing  from  the  gallop  to  the  trot,  but  whenever 
he  comes  to  a  cross-road  or  a  side  field-path  there 
he  waits,  as  if  he  were  a  convict  on  the  treadmill, 
who  won't  take  an  unnecessary  step.  And,  like 
other  dogs  of  good  breed,  he  has  an  extraordinary 

knowledge  of  the  lie  of  a  country.     I  don't  much 

N 


194  DOGS 

believe  in  the  wonderful  stories  of  dogs  who  have 
travelled  in  dog-boxes  from  Land's  End  to  John  o' 
Groat's,  finding  their  way  straight  home  again  like 
homing  pigeons.  As  I  once  heard  the  editor  of 
Punch  remark,  if  they  were  worth  stealing  they  would 
certainly  be  picked  up  on  the  road.  But  if  the 
youngest  dog  is  missing  in  course  of  a  walk  anywhere 
near  his  home,  you  may  be  pretty  sure  he  will  turn 
up  ail  right,  barring  thieves  or  accidents.  Yet,  till 
he  does  turn  up,  you  can  never  be  altogether  easy. 
It  is  a  fair  presumption  that  he  is  in  mischief,  and 
may  have  got  into  grief.  He  may  have  been  caught 
in  a  trap,  or  shot  by  a  zealous  game  watcher  when 
scraping  at  a  rabbit  burrow,  or  in  his  excitement 
he  may  have  burrowed  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth 
and  got  wedged  between  stones  or  buried  in  a 
landslip.  The  weakness  of  lively  young  dogs  for 
poaching  is  a  constant  sense  of  anxiety.  When 
there  is  a  pair  of  them  knocking  about  in  com- 
pany they  are  perpetually  in  scrapes.  I  live 
where  small  coverts  and  straggling  woods  come 
up  to  a  thick  coppice  at  the  bottom  of  the 
garden.  There  is  a  tangled  bit  of  paddock,  and 
the  dogs  stroll  off  innocently  enough  on  their  own 
property,  jumping  among  the  tufts  of  grass  and 
pretending  to  be  hunting  field-mice.  They  know 
as  well  as  I  do  the  boundaries  they  are  forbidden 
to  pass.  But  suddenly  something  comes  as  an 
excuse  or  an  irresistible  temptation  for  breaking 
bounds.  A  rabbit  starts  from  under  a  bramble 
and  scuttles  for  the  hedge,  or  a  pair  of  partridges 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIP^E  195 

in  the  mating  season  skim  the  grass  with  a  whirr. 
Then  the  dogs  are  off  and  away,  yelping  ceaselessly 
in  shrill  discord,  and  when  you  may  see  them 
again  is  a  question. 

In  my  opinion  Sunday  is  the  special  day  on 
which  they  craftily  and  deliberately  get  into  mis- 
chief. On  the  other  six  days  they  see  you  in 
tweeds  or  homespun,  and  are  hopeful  of  something 
turning  up  in  their  line.  On  Sunday  they  know 
the  meaning  of  the  church  bells.  They  assume  a 
suitable  and  Sabbatical  demeanour,  but  it  is  sulky 
rather  than  solemn.  They  see  you  come  forth  in  a 
top  hat  with  an  umbrella,  and  the  umbrella  is  a 
sure  sign,  for  they  know  you  never  carry  one  under 
other  circumstances.  They  seldom  try  to  follow, 
though  a  puppy  may  sneak  behind  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance ;  but  the  moment  you  are  out  of  sight  they 
are  planning  diversion,  and  off  they  go  for  a  long 
day  in  the  woods.  It  is  well  for  my  peace  of  mind 
that  I  am  friends  with  the  surrounding  keepers, 
otherwise  the  thought  of  wire  snares  and  rabbit 
traps  would  disturb  my  devotions.  I  am  not  much 
afraid  of  the  dogs  being  shot,  for  my  dark  terriers 
are  *'  kenspeckle,"  as  they  say  in  Scotland,  that  is, 
there  is  no  mistaking  them.  But  the  keepers  make 
a  good  thing  of  catching  the  culprits  and  bringing 
them  back.  When  they  come  home  of  their  own 
accord,  fagged  and  muddy,  self-convicted  by  the 
briars  and  thorns  on  their  coats,  they  are  like  the 
truant  boy  who  has  had  his  fling,  and  knows  he 
has   let   himself   in   for    well-merited    punishment. 


196  DOGS 

Conscience  was  silent  in  the  excitement  of  the 
chase,  but  now  it  is  very  much  alive.  Instead  of 
fawning  and  jumping  up  on  you,  they  will  not  meet 
your  eye,  and  sneak  into  the  back  regions,  even 
when  half-dying  of  hunger. 

You  must  train  up  a  dog  in  the  way  he  should 
go,  and  what  you  must  chiefly  impress  upon  him 
is  obedience  and  self-control.  But  gentle  methods 
are  the  best,  except  with  impracticable  animals 
you  had  better  get  rid  of,  and  everything  may  be 
done  by  kindness.  When  you  are  teaching  the 
dog,  it  is  good  training  for  yourself,  and  some- 
times patience  is  sorely  tried.  A  dog-call  always 
hangs  at  my  button-hole,  but  I  never  carry  a  dog- 
whip,  and  though  I  sometimes  lay  the  stick  lightly 
over  a  dog's  back,  it  is  only  by  way  of  hint  as 
to  what  might  possibly  happen.  Only  once  did  I 
actually  chastise  a  dog  severely,  and  he  was  the 
greatest  favourite  I  have  ever  had.  Once  when  I 
returned  home  after  a  few  weeks'  absence,  I  found 
he  had  become  an  incorrigible  poacher,  or  rather 
hunter,  for  there  w^as  nothing  of  the  sneak  about 
his  proceedings,  and  he  never  realised  he  was  doing 
wrong.  Servants  had  taken  him  out  for  walks 
in  the  woods,  and  were  quite  content  to  bring 
him  home  safe,  waiting  patiently  until  he  had 
done  amusing  himself  with  the  game.  Taking 
the  same  walks  myself,  I  found  that  my  friend 
gave  me  the  slip  ;  then  I  heard  him,  as  the  old 
writers  say,  making  the  welkin  ring,  as  he  followed 
hot-foot   on    a   burning    scent.      His    cheery    cry 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIFE  197 

might  have  been  heard  over  half  a  parish  as 
pheasants  rose  rocketing  over  the  trees,  and  hares 
came  hopping  out  of  the  thickets.  How  the 
keepers'  attention  had  not  been  directed  to  his 
vagaries,  I  don't  know.  Mild  remonstrances,  stern 
reproofs,  sharp  pulling  of  the  ears  were  of  no  avail  ; 
the  young  scamp  seemed  incorrigible.  One  day, 
when  he  was  running  his  usual  ring,  I  heard  him 
coming  straight  for  me,  full  cry.  To  eclipse 
myself  behind  a  big  oak  was,  as  the  story 
writers  say,  the  work  of  a  moment.  By,  within 
a  couple  of  yards,  came  a  hare  with  ears  laid 
back,  and  half  a  minute  afterwards  was  followed 
by  Master  Charlie,  pumped  and  half-blown,  but 
still  with  breath  enough  to  bark.  He  literally 
jumped  into  my  arms,  and  you  never  saw  a  dog 
so  taken  aback.  He  was  as  much  surprised  when 
sharp  and  unaccustomed  chastisement  followed 
close  on  the  sin.  For  once  the  rod  was  not 
spared,  and  from  that  hour  he  became  a  reformed 
character.  By  the  way,  when  he  sobered  down 
with  old  age,  he  became  a  pretty  regular  church- 
goer. He  knew  the  signs  of  the  Sabbath  as  well 
as  any  of  his  friends,  and  when  he  heard  the 
bells  he  would  slip  away  from  the  others  to  lie 
in  wait.  When  I  went  by  on  the  first  occasion, 
he  must  have  followed  at  a  respectful  distance, 
for  I  never  saw  him  till  service  was  over.  Hav- 
ing tried  it  on  successfully  once,  I  never  dis- 
couraged him  in  a  practice  so  praiseworthy,  for 
he    gave    no    sort    of    trouble.      I    have    been    in 


198  DOGS 

Highland  churches  where  the  colHes  were  regular 
members  of  the  congregation  ;  they  followed  the 
hill  shepherds  over  miles  of  moor  and  moss, 
curling  themselves  up  at  their  masters'  feet.  Gene- 
rally they  snored  peacefully  through  the  service, 
but  sometimes  one  would  waken  up  from  a  night- 
mare, make  a  snap  at  his  neighbour,  and  then  there 
would  be  trouble.  There  would  be  a  free-fight 
in  the  passages,  when  the  hair  was  flying  and 
the  shepherds  flourishing  their  sticks,  for  they 
were  shy  of  trusting  their  hands  among  the  sharp- 
toothed  combatants.  Then  the  dogs  would  be 
kicked  out,  the  doors  closed  upon  them,  and  the 
minister,  not  unaccustomed  to  such  scenes,  would 
recommence  his  sermon,  where  he  had  been  in- 
terrupted. But  Charlie  never  came  farther  than 
the  porch ;  there  he  would  sit  out  the  longest 
service  with  exemplary  patience,  in  the  hope  of 
being  taken  afterwards  for  a  quiet  stroll. 

•  ••••• 

All  dogs  have  a  dash  of  jealousy  in  their  natures. 
You  may  take  it  as  a  general  rule  that  the  more 
a  dog  loves  you,  the  more  jealous  he  w^ill  be.  You 
are  patting  the  head  or  playing  with  the  ears  of  a 
favourite,  when  another  protests  with  a  muttering 
growl,  and  a  third  remonstrates  more  quietly  by 
laying  his  chin  over  your  leg.  That  shows  the 
difference  of  dispositions  ;  one,  if  he  dared,  would 
savagely  resent  any  preference,  and  the  other  is 
content  to  steal  into  your  affections.  Puppies  of 
the  same  litter,  brought  up  in  the  same  way,  turn 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL    LIFE  199 

out  very  differently.  One  is  naturally  morose, 
quick  to  take  offence,  and  inclined  to  sulk ;  put 
him  out  of  temper,  and  it  may  be  days  before  he 
will  forgive  or  forget.  Kindness  and  patience  are 
wasted  on  his  sullen  nature,  and  the  sooner  you  get 
rid  of  him  the  better.  So  perhaps  it  might  be  wise 
to  do  with  another,  whose  fiery  spirit  keeps  you  in 
continual  hot  water,  and  yet  you  cannot  help  liking 
him.  A  born  fighter,  he  is  always  picking  quarrels  ; 
on  slight  provocation  he  will  go  at  any  dog,  regard- 
less of  size  or  strength.  He  is  what  the  keepers  call 
"varmint," — game  to  the  backbone,  and  as  his  fail- 
ings are  on  the  side  of  virtues,  you  love  him  for 
his  pluck.  I  had  one  of  the  kind  who  had  a 
difficulty  with  a  bull-terrier  on  chain,  twice  his  own 
weight.  He  could  have  cried  off  at  any  moment  of 
the  fight,  but  for  a  summer  afternoon  he  went  at 
the  big  one,  time  after  time,  retiring  beyond  reach 
to  breathe  between  rounds.  The  stupid  stableman 
who  was  looking  on  never  interfered,  and  when 
I  drove  home  that  night — I  had  been  away  for  the 
day — I  heard  that  my  little  pet  had  at  last  been 
brought  home  dying,  so  bad  that  it  was  not  thought 
worth  while  to  send  for  a  doctor.  A  pitiable  sight 
he  was,  bleeding,  tattered,  and  torn,  stretched  on 
the  rug,  with  scarcely  a  wink  or  a  breath  left  in 
him.  I  washed  his  wounds,  bound  up  a  thigh  that 
had  been  bitten  through,  and  was  cheered  to  see 
him  open  one  eye,  when  I  bathed  his  muzzle  with 
brandy  and  poured  some  drops  down  his  throat. 
Rather  than  watch  through  the  night  by  the  patient's 


200  DOGS 

bed,  I  took  him  up  to  my  own,  and  was  delighted  to 
hear  him  tumble  off  towards  the  small  hours,  for  it 
showed  there  was  life  in  him  still.  Care  and  a 
sound  constitution  pulled  him  through,  though  he 
went  on  three  legs  to  his  dying  day,  and  the  first 
use  he  made  of  his  convalescence  was  to  go  back 
to  have  it  out  with  the  bull-terrier.  But  knowing 
him,  I  had  taken  precautions  ;  otherwise  he  would 
probably  have  been  killed. 

Then  there  are  shy  dogs  and  cheeky  dogs ;  some 
want  to  be  drawn  out  and  others  to  be  sat  upon.  I 
import  my  terriers  from  the  far  north,  and  it  is 
painful  and  provoking  too,  to  see  the  distress  of  a 
timid  little  animal  when  landed  among  unfamiliar 
surroundings.  He  is  pretty  sure  to  have  left  aching 
hearts  behind  him,  and  you  can  see  in  his  tearful 
eyes  and  reproachful  looks  that  he  is  full  of  sad 
memories  of  happy  days.  I  thought  I  should  lose 
one  of  those  sensitive  creatures  ;  for  a  couple  of 
days  he  could  not  be  persuaded  to  eat,  and  I 
believe  he  would  have  died  had  he  not  attached 
himself  to  a  housemaid,  who,  after  trying  many 
things,  tempted  him  with  cream  and  Roquefort 
cheese.  Yet  that  shrinking  little  beggar,  when  roused 
in  battle,  was  as  game  as  the  small  champion  who 
fought  the  bull-terrier.  That,  however,  is  rather 
an  exceptional  case,  and  more  often  the  newcomer 
makes  himself  at  home  from  the  moment  of  his 
arrival.  Taken  off  the  train,  he  is  like  a  jack-in-the- 
box,  with  extraordinary  stores  of  repressed  energy. 
Within  five  minutes  he  is  looking  for  rats  behind 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIFE  201 

the  window  curtains,  or  romping  and  taking  liberties 
with  the  older  residents.  He  does  not  show  any 
disinclination  for  food  ;  on  the  contrary,  if  you  let 
him  eat  his  fill,  he  would  gorge  himself  like  a  boa 
constrictor.  All  dogs  are  fond  of  good  living,  and 
though  to  keep  them  in  perfect  health  they  should 
be  dieted  carefully  and  regularly,  I  am  afraid  that  is 
a  rule  which  I  honour  in  the  breach  rather  than 
the  observance.  In  fact,  so  far  as  my  experience 
goes,  when  dogs  are  unconfined,  with  a  free  run 
out  of  doors,  you  may  indulge  them  moderately  with 
impunity.  Indeed  when  the  servants  take  to  them, 
you  can  hardly  help  yourself.  Anyhow,  three  or 
four  are  generally  sitting  round  my  dinner-table, 
and  it  is  then  that  jealousy  comes  out.  If  I  did 
not  believe  it  was  the  favour  as  much  as  the 
food  they  cared  for,  I  should  say  they  were  detest- 
ably greedy.  A  dog  who  turns  up  his  nose  at  dry 
bread  when  you  are  dining  tete-a-tete^  will  snatch  at 
it  when  surrounded  with  eager  companions.  What 
tempts  them  most  is  anything  they  will  crunch, 
from  chicken  bones  to  biscuits,  and  then  they  are 
apt  to  be  betrayed  into  forgetting  their  manners. 
In  all  my  experience  I  have  only  known  one  or 
two  gentlemen  or  ladies  who  took  food  from  your 
hand — in  a  mixed  company — as  if  conferring  a 
favour,  mouthing  it  as  gently  as  the  high-bred 
retriever,  who  lays  a  bird  at  your  feet  without 
ruffling  a  feather. 

No  doubt  a  dog  who  lives  in  the  house  is  likely 
to  be  over-indulged,  and  great  authorities  will  tell 


202  DOGS 

you  that  he  ought  only  to  be  fed  once  a  day,  and 
that  it  is  more  healthy  for  him  to  be  kept  in  an 
outhouse,  with  plenty  of  fresh  air  and  clean  straw. 
Don't  you  believe  that,  or  only  believe  it  with 
reservations.  Boys  are  not  given  to  coddling 
either  their  dogs  or  themselves.  There  is  nothing 
they  hold  in  greater  contempt  than  an  overfed 
poodle  or  an  asthmatic  pug.  If  the  boy  is  worth 
his  salt,  his  dog  in  any  circumstances  will  be 
in  fair  condition.  Unfortunately  no  boy  is  his 
own  master,  and  his  parents  may  have  preju- 
dices. His  mother  may  object  to  muddy  feet  on 
her  carpets,  or  to  shaggy  coats,  smelling  strongly 
of  damp,  stretching  themselves  out  to  dry  on  her 
cushions.  But  if  he  is  lucky  enough  to  live  in  a 
house  where  they  are  not  over-particular,  he  ought 
to  learn  what  friendship  and  close  sympathy  really 
mean.  There  are  many  dogs  that  never  get  a  fair 
chance,  and  we  never  know  how  marvellously  their 
intelligence  may  be  developed.  The  sportsman 
who  only  goes  to  his  moors  in  August  meets  his 
setters  or  pointers  for  the  first  time ;  they  have 
been  kept  close  prisoners  for  nine  months  in  the 
year,  taken  out  like  the  captives  of  a  penitentiary 
for  an  occasional  run,  and  the  marvel  is  that  they 
are  not  idiots.  The  run  of  retrievers  are  left  to 
keepers,  who  keep  them  on  the  chain  and  break 
them  with  the  whip  and  the  whistle.  They  gene- 
rally work  indifferently,  but  the  wonder  is  that 
they  work  at  all.  Look,  on  the  other  hand,  at  the 
dogs  of  the  poacher  and  the  hill  shepherd.     The 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL    LIFE  203 

poacher's  lurcher  is  seldom  pure   bred ;    he   is   a 
cross  between  the  greyhound — the  least  intelligent 
of  dogs — and  the  collie,  and  I  have  a  great  belief 
in  pure  breeding.     But  he  lives  with  his  master  ; 
he  is  with  him  night  and  day,  and  he  becomes  such 
a  finished  hypocrite,  that  he  might  give  points  to 
the  most  accomplished  area  sneak.     His  hang-dog 
or  furtive   look   he   cannot   help,  but   if   any  one 
glances  at  him  suspiciously,  he  is  the  incarnation 
of  injured  innocence.     His  hunting — and  lurchers 
almost  always  hunt  in  couples — is  the  perfection 
of  dodgy  strategy.     He  knows  he  is  raiding  in  a 
hostile   country,   and   with    ears   and    nose    he    is 
always  on  the  watch  for  signs  of  the  enemy.     Of 
course  he  hunts  silent,  but  on  a  symptom  of  danger 
he  slinks  into  the  nearest  ditch,  and  works   back 
under  the   cover   of   weeds   and   brambles   to   his 
master.     If  there  is  no  trouble,  while  the  one  dog 
beats  the  field,  the  other  is  on  the  watch  by  the 
hedge  at  the  familiar  hare  or  pheasant  run.     But 
it  is  when  his  master  has  made  a  good  haul  by  net 
or  snare  that  the   serious   business   begins.     The 
game  is  to  be  got  off  the  ground,  and  the  watchers 
may  have  taken  the  alarm,  or  the  rural  constable 
may   be   taking   an   early   stroll   along    the   lanes. 
Then  the  surest  of  the  lurchers  is  sent  off  on  patrol 
duty.     He  trots  ahead,  as  if  minding  some  business 
of  his  own,  with  cocked  ears  and  distended  nostrils. 
I  have  been  told  by  an  old  villain,  whom  I  was 
trying  to  bring  to  a  sense  of  the  error  of  his  ways, 
and  who  used   to   chuckle  over  the  iniquities  he 


204  DOGS 

professed  to  deplore,  that  he  owed  the  competency 
which  made  his  old  age  comfortable  to  the  sagacity 
of  one  particular  dog.  ''  Bless  you,  sir/'  he  used  to 
say,  "  Solomon,  with  all  his  wisdom,  was  a  fool  to 
him.  If  he  came  back  to  you  with  a  wink  and 
wag  of  his  tail,  you  might  take  your  'davit  that 
the  road  was  clear,  and  mind  you,  he  would  never 
speak  unless  he  was  sure.  Blest  if  I  don't  be- 
lieve he  would  have  smelled  out  a  policeman  if 
he  had  turned  out  in  a  surplice,  and  he  would  wind 
a  watcher  from  half  a  mile." 

I  daresay,  like  veterans  telling  of  their  wars, 
the  old  gentleman  may  have  exaggerated  the  many 
anecdotes  he  related  of  that  dog's  sagacity.  Yet 
I  do  not  know,  for  nothing  he  said  could  surpass 
the  well-authenticated  stories  of  the  almost  super- 
human intelligence  of  the  shepherd's  dog.  Read 
the  autobiography  of  James  Hogg,  the  Ettrick 
Shepherd,  and  his  recollections  of  the  feats  of 
his  famous  collies.  It  may  be  said  that  seeking 
and  gathering  hundreds  of  scattered  sheep  in  dark- 
ness, storm,  and  blinding  snow-drift,  or  that 
^'shepherding"  in  the  stragglers  to  the  folds  over 
trackless  hill  pastures  cut  up  by  innumerable  gills 
or  gullies,  is  only  the  result  of  instinct  developed 
by  education  for  generations.  The  dog,  whether 
trotting  ahead  on  the  hill  or  blinking  and  half 
dreaming  on  the  sheepskin  in  the  chimney-corner, 
is  ever  in  touch  with  his  master's  mind,  and  turns 
naturally  to  his  eye.  From  puppyhood  he  has 
been  initiated  in  all  his  ways.     But  what  is  to  be 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIFE  205 

said  of  his  understanding  of   conversation  ?     The 
Ettrick  Shepherd    wrote   poems    and    novels,  and 
may  be  supposed  to  have  drawn  on  his  imagination. 
But  Frederick  St.  John,   author   of   some   of   the 
very  best  books  on  sport  and  natural  history,  is 
above  suspicion.      And  he  tells  us  that  when  sitting 
with  a  shepherd  one    evening    in    his   cottage    on 
the  moors,  the  man  remarked  casually  in  course  of 
conversation  and  without  changing  his  tone,  ^'  I'm 
thinking  that  the  cow's  in  the  corn."     Whereupon 
his  collie,  who  had  seemed  quite  indifferent  to  their 
talk,  jumped  up,  rushed  to  the  door,  saw  that  it 
was  a  false   alarm,  and  curled  himself   up    again. 
A    few    minutes    afterwards   the    same    trick   was 
played,    with   the   same   results.      The    third   time 
the  victim   of   the  joke   was  not   to    be  befooled, 
and  never  moved  a  muscle.     Then  there  was  Scott's 
old  favourite  at  Ashestiel,  equally  at  home  in  human 
speech.     The  day  came  when  he  could  not  follow 
his  master  in  his  rides,  and  his  rheumatic  limbs 
compelled  him  to  keep  the  hearthrug.      Towards 
the  dinner-hour,  the   butler  would  come  into  the 
room   and   say,    '^Camp,    my    man,    the    sheriff's 
coming  home  by  the  hill  or  by  the  river,"  as  the 
case  might  be.     Then  the  old  fellow  pulled  himself 
together,  and  tottered  out  to  the  back  or  front  of 
the  house  to  welcome  his  master. 

Well-bred  dogs  are  extraordinarily  sensitive  to 
ridicule.  Some  of  them  carry  self-respect  to 
excess,  and  are  apt  to  spoil  pleasant  company  by 
absurd  suspicion.     They  take  an  accidental  laugh, 


2o6  DOGS 

if  you  chance  to  catch  their  eye^  as  a  personal 
insult,  and  if  you  condescend  to  apology  by  way 
of  smoothing  matters  over,  it  takes  no  end  of 
petting  to  reassure  them.  When  these  self-con- 
scious animals  are  taken  in  a  fault,  or  are  guilty 
of  any  breach  of  good  manners,  the  means  of 
sharp  punishment  are  ready  to  your  hand.  The 
laugh  falls  like  a  dog-whip,  and  the  smile  stings 
like  a  switch.  Self-consciousness  shows  in  another 
way.  Dogs  of  a  certain  age  feel  that  they  have 
their  dignity  to  support ;  all  the  same  they  are 
still  game  for  frolics,  even  when  their  limbs  begin 
to  stiffen.  Scott  tells  how  his  magnificent  deer- 
hound  Maida,  when  taken  out  for  a  ramble  with 
the  rest  of  his  canine  following,  would  be  betrayed 
into  undignified  gambols  by  the  playful  advances 
of  his  small  friends.  They  would  go  galloping 
in  mad  circles,  snapping  and  rolling  over  each 
other ;  then  of  a  sudden  Maida  would  recollect 
himself,  and  assume  a  chilling  solemnity  of  de- 
meanour. '^  Ha'  done,  youngsters,"  he  would  say, 
with  a  twinkle  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  ;  ^'  don't 
you  see  the  sheriff  is  looking  ?  "  So  when  I  have 
been  sitting  immersed  in  a  book,  I  have  heard 
a  scrambling  and  scraping  on  the  carpet.  An 
asthmatic  veteran,  with  a  leg  and  a  half  in  the 
grave,  is  furiously  worrying  a  grandson  of  his  own, 
who  enters  with  such  spirit  into  the  sport  that 
he  is  shamming  exhaustion  and  speedy  dissolution. 
In  my  amusement,  I  forget  to  sham  unobservant, 
and  the  game  is  broken   off,  to  the  surprise   and 


IN    BOOKS   AND   REAL   LIFE  207 

disgust  of  the  young  one  who  fails  to  grasp  the 
situation.  All  dogs  are  born  actors,  though  of 
course  they  improve  with  experience  and  practice. 
When  preparing  to  romp,  they  always  try  to 
look  more  preternaturally  solemn,  though  in  the 
prospect  of  the  impending  fun,  the  laughter  will 
bubble  up. 

Honest  dogs  only  go  in  for  acting  by  way  of 
diversion,  but  those  who  have  been  badly  brought 
up,  or  bred  on  short  commons  in  the  gutters,  cul- 
tivate hypocrisy  as  a  fine  art.  The  scamps  who 
hang  about  street  corners  and  live  by  their  wits, 
have  brought  the  dogs  they  keep  to  high  perfection. 
I  have  been  told  by  a  gentleman  who  sold  sausages 
and  mutton  pies  at  a  stall  in  Whitechapel,  that  the 
boys  were  a  bother  to  him,  but  the  dogs  were  far 
worse.  He  always  knew  that  boys  meant  mischief, 
and  was  on  the  outlook,  but  there  was  no  dodging 
the  dogs.  One  hardened  criminal,  a  cross-bred 
bull-terrier,  would  sneak  up  under  the  stall,  wag- 
ging his  tail,  a  picture  of  indifference,  then  when  he 
saw  his  opportunity,  make  a  spring  and  a  snatch. 
With  dogs  like  these,  of  course,  a  respectable  boy 
has  nothing  to  do,  but  his  own  friends  of  honour- 
able descent  and  unexceptionable  training  may  let 
him  in  when  he  least  expects  it.  I  have  told  my 
terriers  that  they  must  stay  at  home,  and  they  quite 
understood.  Their  disappointment,  as  they  sneaked 
back  into  the  house,  apparently  renouncing  all  hope 
of  the  expected  walk,  has  so  touched  me  that  I 
have  felt  inclined  to  give  up  the  engagement.     The 


2o8  DOGS 

little  humbugs  were  laughing  at  me  all  the  time. 
An  hour  afterwards,  in  the  gay  crowd  at  a  garden 
party,  they  were  creeping,  shamefaced,  out  of  the 
shrubs,  knowing  that  I  could  not  punch  their  heads 
in  the  circumstances,  and  from  experience  of  weak- 
ness in  the  past,  hoping  for  a  free  pardon. 

Dogs  are  sociable,  and  the  most  aristocratic  in 
their  habits  and  tastes  will  on  occasion  take  up  with 
low  acquaintances.     I  don't  take  any  exception  to 
that,  for  I  daresay  an  ungainly  cur  may  have  many 
good  qualities  and  be  a  pleasant  companion.    What 
I    dislike   is,  that   the    aristocrat    who    enjoys    his 
humble  friend's  company  on  the  sly  will  cut  him 
dead  on  occasion,  in  the  most  shameless  fashion. 
I  knew  a  silken-coated  Sussex  spaniel,  a  lady's  pet, 
who  got  bored  to  death  with  long  carriage-drives 
and  short  strolls  in  the  garden.     The  surly  mastiff 
chained  in  the  stable-yard  would  have  nothing  to 
say  to  him,  and  there  was  no  other  dog  about  the 
place.     A  rat-catcher  was  engaged  for  a  few  days, 
and  the  arrival  of  his  scratch  pack  sent  Fido  into 
exuberant  spirits.    It  was  pleasant  to  see  him  inciting 
them  to  gambols  about  the  flower-beds,  knocking 
the  carnations  about,   and   turning  somersaults   in 
beds  of    pansies.      Naturally  when  she   went   out 
with  her  mistress,  her  poor  friends  came   at  her 
with  a  rush,  and  her  embarrassment  would  have 
been  pitiable  if  it  had  not  been  so    contemptible. 
It  was  the  other  dogs  one  was  sorry  for ;  accus- 
tomed to  hard  knocks,  they  were  naturally  modest, 
but  I  did  not  envy  Fido  his  feelings  when  she  met 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIFE  209 

their  reproachful  glances,  as,  bewildered  and  taken 
aback,  they  humbly  tucked  their  tails  between  their 
legs.  Now  my  Scotch  terriers  are  of  more  sterling 
metal.  The  butcher's  dog,  a  squat  bull-terrier, 
with  a  dash  of  the  collie,  comes  every  morning  for 
orders,  and  they  often  ask  him  to  stay.  They  bring 
him  on  to  the  terrace  before  the  windows,  and  do 
their  best  to  entertain  the  guest.  They  make  no 
secret  of  the  intimacy,  but  keep  it  within  certain 
bounds.  They  acknowledge  him,  rubbing  noses  in 
the  fashion  of  the  South  Sea  Islanders,  when  he 
comes  up,  wagging  his  stump  of  a  tail  as  we  pass 
through  the  village  street.  But  they  have  taught 
him  never  to  presume,  and  he  knows  better  now 
than  to  join  company,  as  he  would  do  very  gladly. 
When  he  tried  it  on,  refusing  to  take  a  hint,  after  a 
glitter  of  teeth  and  some  show  of  savage  fighting, 
he  was  rolled  ignominiously  into  a  ditch.  Now 
they  are  as  good  friends  as  before,  but  he  under- 
stands his  place  and  keeps  it. 

It  is  impossible  to  lose  a  dog  in  a  neighbourhood 
he  knows,  unless  he  lets  himself  be  picked  up,  which 
is  unlikely.  He  naturally  gives  strangers  a  wide 
berth,  and  it  is  long  odds  against  his  coming  across  a 
professional  dog-stealer  with  such  an  irresistible  lure 
as  is  valerian  for  cats.  But  as  a  rule  he  will  take  his 
time  about  getting  back,  causing  his  master  much 
unnecessary  anxiety.  How  he  passes  the  time  is 
a  mystery,  for  even  an  inveterate  poacher  will 
seldom  go  on  the  hunt  single-handed.     The  only 

exception   I   knew  was  an   exceedingly  handsome 

O 


210  DOGS 

animal,  with  soft,  lustrous  eyes  like  those  of  a 
roe  deer.  He  was  timid,  and  seemed  to  know  that 
his  beauty  was  a  danger ;  at  any  rate,  however 
briskly  I  stepped  out  after  missing  him,  I  always 
found  him  in  waiting  at  the  door.  His  lustrous 
eyes  were  intelligent,  and  in  some  ways  he  was 
sharp,  but  in  others  provokingly  stupid.  If  I 
slammed  a  field  gate,  barred  close  to  the  ground, 
in  his  face,  with  a  stift"  hedge  matted  at  the  roots 
on  either  side,  he  would  never  make  a  detour  to 
scramble  through  somewhere  else,  unless  there 
was  a  companion  to  give  him  a  lead.  He  would 
simply  whine  and  struggle  at  the  bars  till  he  gave 
up  in  despair  and  went  back.  On  principle  I  never 
helped  him,  though  it  is  hopeless  to  teach  an  old 
dog  new  tricks.  On  the  other  hand,  the  most  ac- 
complished burglar  was  never  cleverer  at  getting 
into  strange  houses.  On  the  rare  occasions  when 
I  make  afternoon  calls,  my  dogs  are  trained  to  wait 
on  the  steps  or  the  gravel.  Poly's  impatience  or 
affection  would  get  the  better  of  him  after  a  time. 
There  was  one  great  rambling  mansion,  shut  in  by 
garden  doors  and  yew  hedges,  where  the  people,  to 
their  misfortune,  detested  dogs,  and  consequently 
I  was  extra  particular  in  the  orders  to  mine.  One 
day  I  made  some  civil  apology  for  bringing  them, 
but  said  they  were  all  right  outside,  and  there  was 
no  fear  of  their  intrusion.  The  door  opened,  the 
servants  brought  in  the  tea-tray,  followed  by  Poly 
wagging  his  tail.  He  must  have  sneaked  round, 
forced  the  kitchen  door,  threaded  a  perfect  labyrinth 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIFE  211 

of  passages,  and  scented  me  out.  He  was  either 
so  stupid  or  so  sharp  as  to  take  it  for  granted  I  was 
glad  to  see  him,  and  began  dancing  gracefully  after 
his  fashion,  like  Esmeralda's  kid  in  Victor  Hugo's 
Notre  Dame,  another  book  you  ought  to  read.  Good 
looks  and  pretty  manners  go  for  a  great  deal,  after 
all ;  instead  of  being  kicked  out,  neck  and  crop,  he 
was  stuffed  with  the  tea-cakes,  and  in  five  minutes 
was  rolling  over  the  children  on  the  rug.  Talking  of 
burglars,  by  the  way,  if  you  want  to  persuade  your 
parents  to  let  you  keep  a  dog  within  doors,  you 
can't  use  a  better  argument  than  the  security 
against  thieves.  Dogs  on  chain  may  be  drugged 
or  poisoned ;  but  housebreakers  always  survey 
premises  beforehand,  and  the  boldest  will  never 
attempt  a  house  with  a  yelping  terrier  inside  to 
give  the  alarm. 

Dogs  and  cats  have  a  natural  antipathy,  which 
is  apt  to  get  the  dog-keeper  into  hot  water.  It  is 
inbred  and  hereditary.  The  cat  spits  defiance  and 
bristles  her  back,  then  bolts,  and  the  dog  naturally 
follows.  Taking  refuge  on  a  wall  or  in  the  nearest 
tree,  she  tantalises  him  beyond  canine  endurance. 
Next  time  when  he  has  his  chance  on  the  ground,  he 
goes  in  and  takes  his  revenge ;  though  a  cornered  cat 
is  a  dangerous  enemy,  and  even  when  the  odds  are 
three  to  one  against  her,  she  parts  very  hardly  with 
the  proverbial  nine  lives.  But  even  when  dogs  and 
cats  have  not  been  brought  up  together  from  puppy- 
hood  and  kittenhood,  there  is  never  any  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  the  domestic  peace.     It  would  be 


212  DOGS 

a  mistake  to  bring  a  bull-terrier,  bred  in  the  slums 
and  trained  to  fly  at  all  and  sundry,  into  the  bosom 
of  a  peaceful  family.  Probably  the  pet  tabby  would 
be  in  tatters  before  she  knew  where  she  w^as.  But 
an  honest  sporting  dog,  even  with  cat-chevying 
propensities,  is  prompt  to  recognise  the  changed 
situation.  At  first  there  is  armed  and  suspicious 
neutrality.  The  cat's  back  goes  up  at  a  moment's 
notice ;  the  dog  keeps  his  cold  grey  eye  on  her, 
with  lips  drawn  back  for  a  snarl  and  teeth  ready 
for  a  snap.  But  in  a  very  few  days  things  settle 
down,  and  they  are  not  only  friends,  but  on  the 
footing  of  lovers.  The  cat,  with  her  insidious  ways, 
has  a  fancy  for  rubbing  up  against  anything  warm, 
as  all  dogs  delight  in  being  gently  rubbed  down. 
I  have  a  misanthropical  black  terrier,  who  long 
turned  a  cold  shoulder  to  feline  advances  and 
suggestions  of  soft  caresses.  But  gentle  persever- 
ance got  the  better  of  him  at  last,  and  now  he  and 
his  chum  are  inseparable.  Sometimes,  it  is  true, 
like  all  spoiled  members  of  the  rougher  sex,  he 
finds  her  endearments  a  bore,  and  growls  a  warn- 
ing that  he  is  not  in  the  humour.  Even  when  he 
shows  his  teeth,  she  seems  rather  to  like  it,  for  she 
knows  it  is  his  manner  rather  than  his  mind.  In 
a  few  minutes,  you  hear  her  again  on  the  full  purr, 
and  his  tail  is  being  won  to  a  wag,  as  she  arches 
herself  under  his  chin,  with  her  own  tail  in  the  air. 
Yet  that  terrier  is  a  hereditary  cat-hunter,  and  when 
we  take  our  walks  abroad,  I  am  never  altogether  easy. 
Other  dogs,  as  a  rule,  give  chase  as  a  matter  of 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIFE  213 

course,  but  as  they  neither  wish  nor  hope  to  have 
a  worry,  no  harm  is  done.  Even  if  the  cat,  in 
place  of  bolting,  turns  to  bay,  the  dog  does  not 
turn  jest  to  earnest.  Jack  knew  as  well  as  any  of 
them  that  he  was  expected  to  keep  the  peace,  and 
for  days  he  would  doggedly  resist  temptation. 
Then  the  worrying  demon  would  get  the  better 
of  him  :  he  would  break  out  like  a  wild  Scandinavian 
berserker  or  a  Malay  running  amuck ;  sometimes 
he  showed  the  subtlety  of  the  savage  Red  Indian. 
When  he  meant  mischief  most,  he  managed  matters 
quietly.  He  saw  a  sleek  pussy  imprudently  sunning 
herself  some  yards  from  the  threshold  of  her  happy 
home.  He  dropped  behind,  let  his  master  get  well 
ahead,  and  then  deliberately  stalked  his  unsuspect- 
ing victim.  A  gurgle  in  the  throat  he  gripped,  a 
crack  of  the  backbone,  and  he  resumed  his  trot 
as  if  nothing  had  happened.  There  was  no  break- 
ing him  of  the  vice,  and  yet  he  had  so  many  sterling 
qualities  that  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to 
part  with  him.  For  myself,  I  take  to  cats  almost 
as  kindly  as  to  dogs,  and  I  should  have  felt  more 
deeply  for  bereaved  cottagers  had  they  not  been 
so  easily  consoled  with  half-crowns.  All  the  same, 
he  was  a  costly  dog. 

...... 

In  towns,  as  I  said,  you  must  keep  the  dog 
under  difficulties,  and  do  the  best  you  can,  with 
the  terror  of  losing  him.  If  the  city  dog  does 
not  sicken,  he  loses  flesh  and  spirit,  and  if  you 
are   really  attached  to  him,  you  should  give  him 


214  DOGS 

away.  But  even  when  living  in  the  country  or  the 
suburbs,  it  may  be  impossible  to  let  the  dog  have 
the  run  of  the  house,  and  perhaps  you  may  take 
a  fancy  for  breeding,  or  even  keep  a  couple  or  two 
of  beagles.  Then  they  must  be  accommodated  out 
of  doors,  though  neither  you  nor  they  will  like  it, 
and  you  will  lose  much  of  the  pleasure  of  each 
other's  society.  But  with  regular  exercise  there  is 
no  reason  why  the  dogs  should  not  be  in  capital 
condition,  especially  if  they  have  never  been  used  to 
anything  else  ;  and  indeed  in  confinement  they  are 
on  a  healthier  regimen,  as  they  get  their  wholesome 
meals  *^  more  regular."  A  yard  is  of  course  better 
than  the  chain,  but  it  must  be  a  yard  where  there 
IS  little  coming  or  going,  and  whence  escape  is  im- 
possible. For  double  security,  the  door  should  be 
doubly  latched.  Next  to  that,  perhaps,  comes  a 
loose-box  in  a  stable,  where  the  prisoner  can  frisk 
about  and  has  no  sense  of  chains  and  fetters.  It  may 
be  assumed  that  a  good  stable  is  well  ventilated, 
but  then  there  is  the  lack  of  light  and  sunshine, 
and  the  loss  of  the  human  society  which  the  dog 
delights  in.  Naturally,  he  will  have  made  friends 
with  the  grooms  and  helpers,  but  they  only  see  to 
the  horses  at  stated  hours.  Spying  on  his  privacy 
through  a  window,  I  have  seen  such  a  dog,  with 
one  ear  pricked  and  the  other  turned  to  the  pave- 
ment, listening  wistfully  to  the  approaching  tread 
of  a  foot,  and  dashing  eagerly  against  the  bars  when 
his  acquaintance  stepped  in.  He  had  been  craving 
for  an  hour  or  two  for  human  fellowship,  and  the 


IN    BOOKS   AND   REAL   LIFE  215 

visits  of  the  stable  cat  were  poor  consolation. 
Then  when  the  key  is  turned  upon  him  at  night,  I 
daresay  he  feels  like  the  soldier  under  punishment 
when  sentenced  to  the  dark  cells.  All  the  same, 
that  dog,  with  food  in  plenty,  water-trough  well 
filled,  and  an  abundance  of  wheat-straw,  is  not  to 
be  pitied.  He  has  the  free  play  of  his  limbs,  his 
shapes  are  not  spoiled,  and  his  coat  is  sleek  and 
shining. 

You  cannot  say  so  much  for  the  captive  on 
chain.  If  he  is  of  a  lively  disposition,  he  is  always 
plunging  forward  when  any  one  passes,  either  in 
sheer  sociability,  or  to  get  a  pat  or  pull  of  the  ear, 
or  in  the  elusive  hope  of  having  a  bite  at  the  legs 
of  a  beggar  or  butcher's  boy.  So,  especially  before 
bones  and  muscles  are  set,  shoulders  and  loins  are 
apt  to  be  dragged  out  of  symmetry.  Then  the 
collar  rubs  the  hair  off  the  neck,  and  the  ribs  are 
fretted  against  the  door  of  the  kennel.  For  every 
reason,  the  longer  the  chain  is  the  better,  though  it 
should  have  a  swivel  attached,  to  prevent  entang- 
ling, and  the  kennel  should  be  against  a  wall,  so 
that  the  dog  may  not  wind  himself  up.  Chaining 
may  be  unavoidable,  but  it  tends  to  make  an  ami- 
able dog  savage,  even  when  malicious  people  are 
not  suffered  to  play  tricks  with  him,  keeping  just 
beyond  his  reach.  Yet  with  a  long  chain  and  a 
sweet  temper,  and  without  ever  stretching  his  legs 
beyond  their  cramped  precincts,  a  dog  may  rub 
through  a  long  life  wonderfully  well.  I  never  had  a 
dog  I  loved  better  than  a  magnificent  Esquimaux  ; 


2i6  DOGS 

yet  after  he  came  to  years  of  discretion — of  indis- 
cretion in  his  case — I  could  never  give  him  his 
liberty.  I  got  him  as  a  puppy,  and  he  came  of  a 
family  of  roving  propensities,  who  seemed  to  fancy 
themselves  still  in  their  native  Labrador.  All  his 
relatives  had  come  to  grief  and  been  reported 
missing,  for  the  friend  who  gave  him  me  lived 
among  pheasant  preserves,  where  four-footed 
poachers,  taken  red-handed,  had  short  shrift.  Griff, 
as  I  called  him — he  was  rather  like  the  griffin 
before  the  Law  Courts — behaved  admirably  as  a 
juvenile  ;  he  would  come  to  whistle  like  a  spaniel, 
and  follow  quietly  at  heel.  I  went  abroad  for  a 
winter,  and  when  I  came  back  he  was  demoral- 
ised and  incorrigible.  He  had  gone  hunting  on 
his  own  account ;  he  was  the  terror  of  the  far- 
mers and  the  horror  of  the  keepers,  and  had  I 
not  been  on  the  best  of  terms  with  these  neigh- 
bours, he  would  not  have  survived  to  welcome  me 
warmly.  I  tried  to  bring  him  back  to  discipline, 
but  it  was  no  use.  He  would  trot  quietly  behind 
me  for  half  a  mile  or  so,  then  break  off,  and  I 
would  hear  his  deep-mouthed  bay  among  the 
hedgerows  half  a  parish  away.  He  never  worried 
sheep,  but  he  chased  them  till  they  huddled  to- 
gether breathless ;  in  pure  spirit  of  mischief  and 
the  joy  of  the  chase,  he  even  chevied  colts  and 
young  cattle.  As  to  the  hour  when  he  might 
come  home,  it  was  altogether  a  toss-up.  When 
he  was  missing,  the  wear  and  strain  were  tremen- 
dous, for,  as  I  say,  I  never  loved  a  dog  more  ;  but 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIFE  217 

there  was  nothing  for  it,  in  his  own  interest,  but 
to  sentence  him  to  the  chain  for  Hfe.  In  his 
exuberant  vitality,  in  his  passion  for  a  good  gallop, 
he  felt  it  keenly  ;  he  could  not  understand  being 
put  under  restraint,  and  at  first  his  reproachful 
looks  and  lamentable  whining  cut  me  to  the  heart. 
The  pity  was  that  he  was  supremely  intelligent, 
one  word  of  explanation  would  have  put  matters 
straight.  He  only  needed  to  have  the  error  of  his 
ways  pointed  out  to  him  and  he  would  have  be- 
come a  model  character.  As  it  was,  with  his 
sound  philosophy  he  became  a  model  of  resigna- 
tion ;  but  the  point  is  that  he  lived  for  very  many 
years  in  perfect  health,  and  passed  away  peacefully 
with  no  other  ailment  than  age. 

With  all  his  life  and  fire,  with  his  sweet  temper 
he  took  his  durance  cheerfully,  and  was  an  excep- 
tion to  the  rule.  But  some  breeds  of  big  dogs 
don't  seem  to  mind  the  chain  ;  the  bulldogs  and 
the  mastiffs  have  been  yard  dogs  or  attached 
under  the  waggons  from  time  immemorial.  They 
were  only  taken  off  chain,  from  time  to  time,  to 
bait  a  bull  or  draw  a  badger.  Consequently,  im- 
memorial restraint  has  aggravated  their  natural 
savagery.  They  were  the  sort  of  dogs  who  were  let 
loose  of  a  night  in  the  yards  of  the  old  posting- 
houses,  where  chaises  with  valuable  luggage  were 
left  otherwise  unguarded  ;  or  they  were  turned 
out  on  patrol  round  some  lonely  manor-house, 
when  tramps  or  gipsies  or  housebreakers  were 
about.      In  evil  neighbourhoods  these   watchdogs 


2i8  DOGS 

were  seldom  long-lived,  for  they  were  apt  to  be 
poisoned  out  of  pure  malice.  These  heavy  dogs 
seldom  care  about  much  exercise  ;  they  take  life 
quietly,  like  gouty  old  gentlemen,  and  love  to  lie 
blinking  and  snoring  in  the  sunshine.  All  the 
same,  I  should  not  advise  you  to  trust  to  that,  for 
they  are  all  sinew  and  muscle,  and  as  ready  for  a 
spring  as  a  panther.  And  when  their  jaws  have 
closed  on  your  leg  like  the  teeth  of  a  spring-trap, 
hot  irons  will  hardly  make  them  let  go.  Yet  I 
have  known  active  mastiffs  and  amiable  bulldogs. 
One  of  the  best  retrievers  I  ever  met — at  least  for 
any  four-footed  thing,  from  red-deer  to  rabbits — was 
three-fourths  mastiff  and  one-fourth  bull-terrier;  out 
rabbit-shooting  he  would  jump  about  among  the 
sandhills  like  the  briskest  little  spaniel  or  terrier. 
And  the  only  bulldog  I  ever  owned  was  an  impostor. 
He  came  of  a  famous  breed,  and  I  had  offered 
him  a  home  in  his  old  age,  when  the  master  who 
loved  him  moved  into  London.  I  never  saw  a 
more  truculent  countenance ;  it  would  have  sent 
him  to  the  gallows,  on  mere  suspicion,  in  any  law 
court  in  Europe.  No  doubt  his  ancestors  had 
submitted  to  the  brutal  mutilation,  which  cut  lips 
and  jaw  about  to  show  the  teeth.  But  appear-  ' 
ances  are  deceptive,  and  he  was  the  most  good- 
tempered  of  mortals ;  it  is  true  that  till  he  came  to 
me,  he  had  never  been  on  chain,  but  always  kept 
in  a  yard.  I  tried  to  take  him  out  for  walks,  but 
gave  it  up.  His  massive  frame  was  cast  in  iron, 
but  his  feet  were  in  no  sort  of  condition.     The 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL   LIFE  219 

slow  walk  became  a  waddle,  and  after  half  a  mile 
or  so  the  weight  of  the  body  would  tell,  and  he 
turned  back.  At  first  the  village  girls  gave  him  a 
wide  berth,  and  the  children  ran  screaming  to  their 
mothers'  petticoats.  But  soon  they  came  to  know 
him  better,  and  the  solitary  walk  back  became 
a  triumphal  promenade.  He  would  stop  to  talk 
to  innumerable  friends ;  the  children  would  be 
tumbling  over  him,  pulling  ears  and  tail,  and  he 
would  be  tempted  into  cottages  where  tea  was 
going  forward. 

If  you  must  put  a  dog  on  chain,  you  are  bound 
to  make  him  comfortable.  The  first  thing  is  to  see 
that  he  is  always  supplied  with  fresh  water  ;  in- 
deed all  dogs  should  have  water  within  reach,  with 
a  lump  of  sulphur  in  it.  It  is  wonderful  how  much 
and  how  often  a  dog  will  drink,  even  in  cool 
weather  ;  he  seldom  passes  a  pool  or  puddle  with- 
out dipping  his  tongue,  and  the  first  thing  he  does 
on  coming  home,  is  to  rush  off  to  his  drinking-cup. 
The  next  thing  is  to  protect  him  from  wind  and 
wet.  It  is  odd  how  stupid  old  fashions  linger,  and 
the  kennel  is  generally  made  with  the  door  in 
front.  On  the  contrary,  the  opening  should  al- 
ways be  on  the  side,  so  that,  though  the  quarters 
cannot  at  best  be  very  comfortable,  there  is  a  snug 
recess  where  he  can  roll  himself  up.  A  barrel, 
with  the  lower  part  boarded  up,  is  better  than 
the  ordinary  wind-trap.  Whether  barrel  or  kennel, 
it  should  be  raised  a  few  inches  above  the  ground, 
like    tropical    bungalows    in     malarious    climates. 


220  DOGS 

Free  ventilation  prevents  the  boards  from  rotting, 
and  the  damp  from  soaking  into  the  straw.  The 
wheat-straw  should  be  in  plenty  and  frequently 
renewed,  and  in  cold  weather  there  should  be  the 
luxury  of  a  rug  or  piece  of  blanket,  carefully  dried 
and  aired.  From  time  to  time  the  kennel  must  be 
washed  out  w^ith  soft  soap,  and  scrupulously  dried 
before  the  bedding  is  renewed.  Some  people  hold 
to  aromatic  pine-shavings  as  a  safeguard  against 
vermin,  but  they  are  not  such  comfortable  lying 
as  wheat-straw. 

As  to  feeding  dogs  on  chain,  they  cannot  be  in- 
dulged as  those  that  have  liberty.  And  there  is  no 
greater  mistake  than  tying  them  down  to  a  mono- 
tonous diet.  Oatmeal  porridge  is  excellent,  so  are 
dog  biscuits  ;  but  to  keep  a  prisoner  in  fair  condi- 
tion, his  palate  should  be  tempted  with  variety.  On 
the  other  hand,  you  should  appeal  to  the  good 
sense  of  the  servants,  who  are  apt  to  fill  his  platter 
with  the  refuse  of  the  table.  Give  him  bones  to 
amuse  himself  with,  by  all  means,  but  courses  of 
cold  entrees  are  sure  to  upset  his  digestion,  and 
breed  all  manner  of  skin  diseases.  Old  dogs  should 
have  a  bellyful  once  in  the  day ;  the  staple  should 
be  hot  oatmeal  and  these  biscuits.  Meat  should  be 
given  occasionally,  though  of  course  there  is  meat 
in  the  dog  biscuits,  which  are  both  wholesome  and 
nourishing.  Confinement  is  apt  to  make  a  dog 
costive,  and  nothing  gives  easier  relief  in  a  mild 
case  than  liver,  or  boiled  vegetables  mixed  with 
the  oatmeal  porridge.     As  for  puppies  shut  up  in 


IN    BOOKS   AND    REAL    LIFE  221 

a  stable  or  outhonse,  they  should  have   little  at  a 
time,  and  be  fed  often. 

Fifty  years  ago,  or  less,  it  was  the  fashion  to 
crop  the  ears  and  tails  of  game  terriers.  Happily 
the  fashion  of  ear-clipping  has  gone  out  of  favour ; 
though  as  to  the  tails,  when  they  were  docked  a  week 
or  two  after  birth,  it  really  did  not  hurt.  The 
correct  thing  was  to  bite  them  off.  One  of  my 
earliest  recollections  is  looking  out  of  the  nursery 
window  and  seeing  an  old  gentleman,  in  a  flowered 
flannel  dressing-gown,  and  dressed  in  cast  clothing 
— he  did  all  manner  of  odd  jobs  about  the  back 
premises — biting  off  the  tails  of  a  litter  of  spaniels. 
The  mother  ran  from  one  to  another,  licking  the 
wounds,  and  in  a  few  minutes  her  children  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  all  about  it.  In  the  case  of 
spaniels,  there  is  something  to  be  said  for  the 
operation,  though  I  do  not  think  myself  there  is 
much  in  the  argument.  It  is  maintained  that  for  a 
dog  meant  to  work  in  thick  cover,  a  bushy  tail  is  an 
encumbrance,  as  it  catches  in  brambles  and  thorns. 
In  point  of  fact,  where  the  dog  can  tear  a  way,  the 
tail  will  follow  without  catching.  There  was  more 
reason  in  trimming  the  ears  of  bulldogs  and  bull- 
terriers,  when  their  vocation  in  life  was  understood 
to  be  fighting  ;  the  ear  gave  a  grip  to  the  enemy 
in  a  fight,  and  would  be  torn  into  ribbons  when 
drawing  a  badger.  But  the  badgers  have  been 
going  the  way  of  the  wolves  and  the  wild  cats  : 
the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals 
would  have  a  word  to  say  to  the  sporting  publican 


222 


DOGS 


who  kept  a  badger  in  his  yard ;  and  it  is  only 
among  barbarians  of  the  coal  and  iron  counties 
that  dogs  are  deliberately  pitted  in  single  combat. 
Any  interference  with  the  wise  arrangements  of 
Nature  is  simply  changing  beauty  into  deformity ; 
and  mutilation  in  any  shape,  as  it  is  opposed  to 
humanity,  is  discountenanced  nowadays  by  the 
judges  at  dog  shows. 


CHAPTER    II 


BREEDS    OF    DOGS 


Writing  for  boys,  it  is  no  sort  of  use  going 
through  the  long  catalogue  of  breeds.  What  you 
want  is  a  good  friend  and  cheery  companion. 
Some  dogs  are  naturally  fools,  others  are  delicate, 
and  only  to  be  recommended  if  you  care  for  sick- 
nursing  ;  some,  like  the  lurcher,  are  irreclaimable 
blackguards,  and  if  you  gave  in  to  their  ways  would 
be  sure  to  demoralise  you.  Then  there  are  the 
staghounds  and  the  foxhounds,  death  on  deer  or 
fox,  extraordinarily  sagacious  in  their  special  lines, 


223 


224  DOGS 

but  neither  generally  clever  nor  sociable.  There  is 
no  prettier  sight  than  a  level  pack  of  foxhounds  ; 
no  more  exhilarating  music  than  theirs  when  they 
are  flying  hot-foot  on  a  burning  scent,  waking  the 
echoes  in  the  woodlands,  and  running  so  close  that 
a  sheet  might  cover  them.  There  are  boys  lucky 
enough  to  hope  one  day  to  be  masters  of  hounds, 
and  there  can  be  no  more  honourable  ambition  for 
an  English  county  gentleman.  Those  favourites  of 
fortune,  born  with  silver  spoons  in  their  mouths, 
are  few,  but  there  are  many  who  may  become 
masters  of  beagles,  and  better  sport  no  boy  need 
desire. 

The  beagle  is  really  a  foxhound  in  miniature,  as 
keen  in  the  nose  and  as  hot  on  the  chase  ;  only 
instead  of  getting  together  a  costly  pack,  two  or 
three  couples  will  be  enough  for  amusement.  The 
beauty  of  the  beagle  is  its  diminutive  size,  and  the 
smaller  they  are  the  better,  as  you  follow  the  chase 
on  foot,  and  the  pace  should  never  be  too  severe. 
Fifteen  inches  at  the  shoulder  is  an  outside  height ; 
twelve  is  better  still,  and  it  is  seldom  you  get 
them  much  lower.  If  the  hare  ran  straight  away, 
like  a  tough  old  dog-fox,  her  pursuers  would  have 
no  chance  with  her ;  but  the  nature  of  the  hare  is 
to  dodge  and  twist  and  turn.  The  little  fellows 
hunt  her  with  the  bloodthirsty  perseverance  of  a 
weasel  after  a  rabbit — noses  and  eyes  on  the 
ground,  yelping  ceaselessly.  Nothing  can  be  more 
animating  than  the  merry  music ;  you  feel  as  if 
there   were  quicksilver   in    your   legs   and   springs 


BREEDS  225 

in  your  boot  heels,  as  you  go  bounding  over 
ditches,  crashing  through  hedges,  and  coming  a 
nasty  cropper  now  and  then,  when  you  trip  over 
rabbit-holes  or  furze-roots.  The  music  ceases  of 
a  sudden,  and  you  are  not  sorry  to  have  breathing 
time,  for  your  heart  is  beating  at  the  double, 
though  you  know  your  wind  was  good.  The  tiny 
pack  has  been  thrown  out,  and  is  casting  to  take 
up  the  trail  again.  There,  they  have  it;  there  is  a 
sharp  note  of  delighted  discovery  from  a  veteran 
you  have  learned  to  trust — you  could  tell  that  keen 
yelp  among  a  hundred — as  the  chorus  swells  again. 
To  tell  the  truth,  the  hare  generally  has  the  best 
of  it,  and  carries  her  fud  away  unscathed 
though  there  are  stories  of  famous  old  packs  of 
beagles  who  invariably  wore  down  and  worried 
their  prey.  In  these  days  when  hares  have  been 
proscribed  by  Act  of  Parliament,  it  is  as  w'ell  they 
should  get  away  to  give  sport  another  time.  And 
if  you  ever  have  the  chance,  nothing  will  excite 
you  more  than  going  out  roe-shooting  in  the  High- 
lands, with  beagles  to  start  the  game  and  keep  it 
going.  Of  course,  the  little  dogs  are  far  too  sensible 
to  think  they  can  tackle  such  a  monster  as  a  roe. 
All  the  same,  they  hunt  him  as  hard  as  if  they 
hoped  it.  If  the  roe  were  wise  he  would  show  them 
a  clean  pair  of  heels.  Agile  above  all  animals  and 
fleet  of  foot,  in  his  graceful  bounds  he  can  clear 
bushes  twice  his  own  height.  But  he  is  loth  to 
leave  the  woods  he  inhabits.     Unlike  the  hare,  he 

does  not  twist  and  turn,  but  he  runs  in  rings  and 

P 


226  DOGS 

seems  to  play  with  his  pursuers.  As  you  stand  on 
some  knoll  in  a  clearing  you  catch  flying  glimpses 
of  him  through  the  tree  stems :  now  he  is  bounding 
as  if  the  hounds  were  on  his  haunches  ;  then  he  pulls 
up  and  bends  his  head  to  listen.  The  clamorous 
little  beagles  come  nearer  and  nearer.  With  a 
leap  he  is  across  the  ride  and  tearing  through  the 
opposite  thicket.  I  rather  believe  that  he  knows 
that  water  drowns  scent,  and  takes  advantage  of 
any  streamlet  that  comes  in  his  way.  Independently 
of  the  difference  in  length  of  legs,  in  any  case  the 
beagles  are  hard  put  to  it ;  if  they  cannot  wriggle 
under  the  thickets,  they  have  no  weight  to  break 
through.  But  their  clamorous  and  inveterate  per- 
severance absorbs  the  roe's  attention,  and  unless  a 
friendly  whiff  of  tainted  air  gives  him  warning  he 
forgets  to  look  out  for  the  guns.  He  comes  glancing 
through  the  boughs  beneath  that  knoll,  where  you 
stand  sheltering  behind  the  pine  :  rolls  over  to  a 
charge  behind  the  shoulder,  and  you  are  very  sorry 
you  have  shot  him  when  you  look  into  those  beautiful 
eyes,  quivering  and  closing  in  the  dimness  of  death. 
You  vow  you  will  never  be  guilty  of  such  another 
murder,  and  you  never  are — till  the  next  time. 
Then  the  little  beagles  come  straggling  up  one  by 
one — panting,  with  tongues  hanging  out,  after  their 
tremendous  exertions — with  burrs  and  fir-needles 
clinging  to  their  ears,  and  their  sleek  coats  torn  by 
the  thorns,  smeared  here  and  there  with  blood- 
streaks.  For  though  there  is  a  breed  of  rough 
beagles,    as   a  rule  they  are  smooth,   and   Nature 


BREEDS  227 

never  intended  them  for  such  rough  Highland 
work,  where  the  thickets  are  like  so  many  chevaux 
defriscy  and  the  thorns  tear  like  the  spinifex  of  the 
Australian  deserts.  A  pack  I  used  to  run  after, 
when  hunting  in  Dorsetshire,  were  more  in  keeping 
with  the  surroundings.  In  woods  where  the  tall 
Scotch  firs  rose  clean  as  cathedral  columns,  with  a 
soft  carpeting,  in  brown  and  green,  of  needles  and 
lichens,  over  rough  heath  and  tussocky  grass,  en- 
closed by  ditches  and  turf  banks,  you  could  keep 
the  chase  in  view  almost  from  start  to  finish. 

In  such  a  country  and  in  the  home  woods,  you 
may  do  as  you  please  and  there  is  no  fear  of 
trouble.  But  if  you — or  at  least,  your  father — 
are  not,  like  Robinson  Crusoe,  monarch  of  all  you 
survey,  you  must  remember  that  there  is  a  law 
of  trespass.  Farmers  will  not  always  sympathise 
with  your  sporting  tastes,  and  they  have  a  pre- 
judice against  having  their  hedges  broken  or  their 
spring  wheat  trampled  down.  But  on  the  whole 
they  are  good  fellows,  kindly  to  boys,  and  a  great 
deal  may  be  done  by  civility,  if  you  solemnly 
promise  to  do  them  no  harm.  It  is  well  to  take 
precautions  beforehand,  and  rubbing  down  a  rough- 
spoken  farmer  the  right  way  is  excellent  practice 
in  diplomacy.  If  you  don't,  your  beagles  will 
assuredly  land  you  in  grief,  and  I  have  heard  of 
cases  where  the  enthusiastic  huntsmen  have  been 
collared  and  cudgelled.  It  was  rough  justice,  but 
bringing  actions  for  assault  seriously  adds  to  the 
expenses  of  a  pack. 


228  DOGS 

As  the  beagle  is  the  dwarf  of  hunting  dogs,  the 
stately  deerhound  is  the  giant.  Sinewy  and  compact, 
of  massive  muscle,  he  is  a  magnificent  type  of  the 
stalwart  Highlander.  Now,  how^ever,  he  is  used 
in  only  a  few  of  the  deer-forests  ;  his  swift  pur- 
suit is  thought  to  drive  the  deer  out  of  bounds, 
and  slower  dogs  are  employed  on  the  trail  of 
the  wounded  hart.  Nowadays,  perhaps  the  finest 
specimens  are  to  be  found  in  the  south,  though, 
strange  to  say,  he  has  never  become  fashionable,  and 
fetches  nothing  like  the  prices  of  St.  Bernards. 
Unlike  the  English  greyhound,  he  is  intelligent  and 
eminently  companionable ;  he  becomes  strongly 
attached  to  his  master,  and  if  a  boy  has  the  rare 
good  luck  to  possess  one,  he  is  a  friend  to  be 
proud  of.  I  fondly  remember  one  I  owned,  and 
was  very  reluctantly  compelled  to  part  with.  I 
bought  him  when  a  kennel  in  a  Ross-shire  forest 
was  broken  up.  He  had  attained  full  strength, 
and  had  already  made  himself  famous  by  pulling 
down  a  ''  cold  "  stag — that  is,  an  unwounded  one — 
a  very  remarkable  feat.  The  deerhound  is  rough 
and  shaggy  as  a  rule  ;  Oscar  was  smooth,  and  they 
say  that  when  there  is  a  smooth  puppy  in  a  litter, 
he  is  always  the  strongest.  He  stood  thirty-three 
inches  at  the  shoulder,  and  that  is  an  excessive 
height  ;  thirty  inches  is  about  the  average  of  a 
powerful  and  perfect  dog.  But  Oscar,  unusually 
tall  as  he  was,  did  not  run  to  light  loins  or  feeble 
limbs.  It  was  fortunate  that  he  was  of  a  singularly 
amiable    temper,  for   he   was  a  formidable  enemy 


BREEDS  229 

to  tackle  :  with  a  long  snake-like  head,  a  pair  of 
alligator  jaws,  furnished  with  a  set  of  teeth  like 
razors.  When  I  bought  him,  I  brought  him  south 
to  live  in  Edinburgh,  and  he  soon  accommodated 
himself  to  his  city  surroundings.  But  the  raiding 
propensities  of  his  ancestors  were-  strong  in  him, 
and  when  he  followed  at  heel  in  walks  along  the 
streets,  he  always  had  an  eye  on  the  stalls  in  poor 
quarters.  His  height  brought  him  on  a  level  with 
the  board  ;  he  never  could  resist  a  tempting 
delicacy,  and  would  make  a  snatch  at  a  bullock's 
heart  or  a  scrag  of  mutton.  Then  the  hue  and  cry 
would  be  raised,  and  there  would  be  the  scandal 
and  cost  of  a  settlement.  I  mention  that  weakness 
as  illustrating  his  strength.  Once  a  great,  strong- 
built  mastiff  on  guard  caught  him  in  the  act  of 
robbery,  and  very  properly  flew  at  him.  Oscar 
dropped  the  mutton,  had  the  mastiff  by  the  back  of 
the  neck,  rolled  him  over  in  the  sawdust,  and  shook 
him  like  a  kitten.  The  watchdog's  master,  who  was 
rushing  forward  with  a  cleaver,  came  to  a  full  stop 
when  he  saw  Oscar  crouch  for  a  spring  ;  luckily  I 
was  at  hand  and  had  my  f.ngers  in  his  collar, 
and  at  a  word  the  roused  lion  was  gentle  as 
a  lamb.  Otherwise  he  gave  no  trouble  in  a  town, 
except  that,  for  a  modest  man,  his  good  looks 
attracted  attention  which  was  embarrassing.  He 
trotted  closely  at  heel,  occasionally  rubbing  his 
muzzle  against  my  hand  to  remind  me  he  was 
there.  And  when  I  rode,  he  followed  the  horse 
at   a   gentle   stretching    gallop.      He   was   a   dark 


230  DOGS 

brindle,  and  that,  to  my  taste,  is  the  best  colour, 
though  some  fancy  dogs  have  been  Hght  grey  or 
fawn.  I  kept  him  in  the  house :  he  slept  on  a  rug 
in  my  bedroom,  and  he  would  have  been  an  un- 
objectionable inmate  in  the  best  regulated  family, 
had  it  not  been  for  his  size,  which  he  could  not 
help.  In  the  frolicsome  gambols  of  which  he  was 
rather  fond,  he  would  upset  the  tables  and  smash 
the  crockery.  Altogether  he  was  an  expensive 
friend,  but  had  I  not  been  going  abroad,  I  should 
never  have  parted  with  him.  He  was  so  handsome 
that  I  got  a  handsome  price  from  an  English 
gentleman  who  leased  a  forest.  But  he  only  passed 
one  other  season  in  his  native  north,  and  I  believe 
he  ended  his  days  in  Hertfordshire. 

Deerhounds  are  death  on  wounded  deer,  because, 
unlike  the  greyhounds,  they  hunt  by  scent  as  well 
as  sight — an  invaluable  quality  on  broken  ground 
among  the  glens  and  rugged  hills  of  the  Highlands. 
They  were  much  in  use  before  the  improvement 
of  the  rifle  made  the  average  stalker's  aim  more 
fatal,  and  the  breech-loading  multiplied  his  chances. 
Moreover,  in  former  days,  before  deer  were  strictly 
preserved  and  good  stalking  grounds  fetched  fancy 
rents,  the  forests  were  of  greater  extent,  and  the 
cry  of  the  hounds  did  little  harm,  for  the  herds  only 
shifted  from  one  part  to  another.  In  the  actual 
chase  they  always  run  mute,  but  when  the  stag 
is  brought  to  bay  they  awaken  the  echoes  far  and 
near  with  their  deep-throated  baying.  There  was 
no  dog  Landseer  so  much  delighted  to  paint,  and 


BREEDS  231 

all  the  hounds  in  his  most  notable  pictures  are 
portraits.  He  decorated  the  walls  of  Lord  Henry 
Bentinck's  lodge  of  Ardverikie  with  stalking  scenes, 
and  the  loss  was  irreparable  to  artists  and  sports- 
men when  it  was  burned  down.  And  he  illustrated 
Scrope's  ^'  Deerstalking "  with  stalking  sketches. 
Scrope,  who  was  the  most  famous  stalker  of  his 
day,  had  the  range  of  the  vast  forest  of  Athol,  where 
the  hounds  could  be  slipped  with  impunity.  There 
were  deer  and  to  spare,  and  the  boundaries  were 
wide.  He  gives  the  most  thrilling  account  of  those 
chases  :  the  wounded  hart  is  a  knowing  strategist, 
and  always  faces  his  pursuers  in  the  least  approach- 
able position.  He  will  turn  to  bay  in  some  torrent, 
with  a  rock  at  his  back,  and  a  cataract  or  the  swift 
rush  of  deep  water  before  him.  And  he  can  use 
his  horns  with  the  flexibility  of  a  skilled  fencer's 
wrist  :  they  rip  like  the  tusks  of  a  wild  boar,  but 
the  wounds  are  said  to  be  more  deadly.  As  an 
old  rhyme  has  it — 

"  If  thou  art  wounded  by  a  hart,  it  brings  thee  to  thy  bier  ; 
But  boar's  wound  will  barber  heal " — 

for  the  barbers  in  old  times  practised  surgery. 
Scrope's  best  story  tells  of  his  favourite  dogs, 
on  slippery  rocks,  forgetting  the  extreme  danger 
in  their  excitement,  when  each  sweep  of  the  stag's 
horns  sent  them  back,  with  their  hind  legs  on 
the  verge  of  an  abyss.  No  wonder  that  there 
was  a  tremor  in  his  hand  when  he  fired  the  shot 
that   saved    them.      But   the   most   famous   of   all 


232  DOGS 

deerhounds  was  Maida,  who  from  puppyhood  to 
old  age  was  Sir  Walter  Scott's  constant  companion. 
He  was  always  at  his  master's  feet  when  the  best 
of  the  Waverley  Novels  were  being  written,  and 
he  was  laid  to  rest  under  a  marble  monument, 
with  a  Latin  epitaph  made  memorable  by  a  slip 
in  the  Latinity. 

The  Newfoundland  is  another  imposing  figure, 
of  dignified  and  gentlemanly  bearing.  Enormously 
strong,  he  seldom  presumes  on  his  strength,  and 
yields  to  none  in  sagacity  and  fidelity.  He  is 
hardy,  as  might  be  presumed  from  his  birthplace, 
the  breeding  region  of  those  dense,  cold  fogs  which 
are  constantly  bringing  ships  to  grief  on  bleak  and 
inhospitable  shores.  He  is  almost  as  much  at 
home  in  the  water  as  on  the  land,  and  many  times 
his  rescue  of  drowning  men  should  have  earned 
him  the  medals  of  the  Humane  Society.  On  chain 
there  can  be  no  better  watch,  but  in  ordinary 
circumstances  it  is  cruel  and  needless  to  chain 
him,  for  he  is  exceptionally  docile  and  obedient. 
Of  course  there  is  the  objection,  as  a  house  dog, 
that  his  coat  carries  a  deal  of  mud,  and  when 
he  shakes  himself  after  a  thorough  soaking,  he 
sprinkles  the  furniture  far  and  near.  For  he  is 
clothed  very  suitably  for  the  Newfoundland  climate  : 
the  hair  on  his  head  is  thick  and  short,  but  it 
curls  or  feathers  all  over  the  body  in  a  heavy  pile 
like  an  Axminster  carpet.  The  soft,  hazel  eyes  are 
full  of  intelligence,  though  rather  small  for  the 
massive     head.      All    the    better     perhaps    for     a 


BREEDS  233 

swimmer,  who  delights  in  breasting  the  breakers. 
The  deep,  broad  chest  and  the  powerful  loins 
seem  built  to  support  a  human  being  in  the  water. 
Naturally,  the  Newfoundland,  too,  is  celebrated  in 
legend  and  literature,  and  many  marvellous  tales 
are  told  of  his  philanthropy  and  pluck.  He  is  a 
favourite  shipmate  of  Canadian  skippers,  and  they 
spin  many  a  yarn  of  how,  when  a  hand  had  tumbled 
overboard,  the  cabin  dog  was  in  the  water  before 
the  life-buoy.  "Christopher  North,"  who  was  a 
poet  and  a  wonderful  prose  writer,  glorifies  his 
noble  Bronte  in  the  fanciful  "  Noctes  Ambrosianae." 
But  as  "  Christopher "  was  the  Professor  Wilson 
of  the  Edinburgh  University,  so  Bronte  really  and 
actually  existed  ;  nor  did  his  master — who  lost  him 
by  poison — exaggerate  his  heroic  qualities.  Wilson 
was  a  great  lover  of  the  Newfoundland,  and  as 
Bronte  was  the  favourite  of  his  middle  age,  Fro 
was  the  friend  of  his  boyhood.  '^Christopher  in 
his  Sporting  Jacket "  is  worth  reading  as  an  auto- 
biography of  the  writer's  early  exploits  under 
difficulties  in  fishing  and  shooting,  and  you  will 
hear  how  Fro  had  it  out  with  a  carter's  mastif¥ 
in  Homeric  combat,  and  how  at  peril  of  his  own 
life  he  saved  a  boy  from  drowning.  I  feel  sure 
that  Fro  was  as  real  a  personage  as  Bronte,  for 
though  after  many  years  his  master  seems  to  write 
of  him  with  tears  in  the  eyes  and  a  swelling 
in  the  throat,  yet  he  does  not  blink  his  faults. 
Fro,  as  little  quarrelsome  as  any  of  his  kind,  had 
been    egged   on    to   that   battle   with    the  mastiff ; 


234  DOGS 

but,   like   Christopher,   who   pleads   guilty   to   the 
inexcusable  cruelty  of  cat-hunting,  at  times  he  was 
betrayed   into    indiscretions.     By   the   way,    Lord 
Byron's  Boatswain  is  another  historical  character. 
It  is  not  every  one  who  can  afford  to  buy  a  well- 
bred  St.  Bernard.     Fifty  pounds  is  a  long  price  to 
pay,  and  prize-winners  have  fetched  ten  times  that 
money.     But  he  is  a  magnificent  dog  to  possess, 
though    perhaps   his   sagacity  has  been  overrated, 
for  he  is  the  hero  of  many  legends.     It  was  to  the 
monks  of  the  hospice  on  the  high  St.  Bernard  pass, 
rather  than  to  the  dogs,  that  so  many  wayfarers, 
perishing  in  the  snowdrifts,  were  indebted  for  their 
rescue.     No  doubt  the  dogs'  noses  came  in  usefully 
when  the  good  monks  were  blinded  by  the  blizzard, 
and  the  traveller,  shrouded  in  the  snow,  had  been 
settling  for  his  last  sleep.      As  the  deerhound,   if 
banished  from  the  forests  of  the  north,  will  surely 
survive  in  England,  much  more   will  that  be  the 
case  with  the  St.  Bernard,  whatever  may  befall  him 
in  the  Alps.     He  is  not  only  become  fashionable, 
but  the  cream  of  the  fashion,  and  it  is  a  fashion 
likely  to  last.     Nearly  forty  years  ago,  what  with 
rough  winters,  avalanches,  and  other  accidents,  the 
race  in  Switzerland  must  have  been  nearly  extinct. 
When  I  slept  at  the  Hospice  I  saw,  to  my  regret, 
that  there  was  only  one  bitch  there  with  a  weakly 
puppy.     To  be  sure,  there  were  other  puppies  at 
milk  in  the  Martigny  Valley,  but  puppies  they  were, 
and  there  was  the  risk  of  distemper.     It  was  a  relief, 
in  returning  from   Italy  by  the  Simplon   Pass,  to 


BREEDS     ,  235 

find,  at  the  branch  establishment  below  the  crest, 
a  stalwart  male  and  female  sunning  themselves  on 
the  steps.  Perhaps  the  monks  at  the  St.  Bernard 
had  said  nothing  of  them,  because  their  coats  were 
smoother  than  they  ought  to  have  been,  and  not 
altogether  correct  in  colour.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
the  breed  seems  to  have  got  up  again  there,  and  I 
believe  the  race  was  replenished  from  England.  For 
Englishmen  took  to  importing  them,  and  notably 
Albert  Smith,  the  comic  entertainer,  who  was  filling 
the  Egyptian  Hall  with  the  story  of  his  ascent  of 
Mont  Blanc.  His  pluck  was  better  than  his  wind, 
but  his  guides  managed  to  haul  him  up  somehow, 
and  he  made  the  most  of  the  mountain  marvels  he 
saw,  including  those  St.  Bernard  members  of  the 
Humane  Society.  Now  there  is  no  fear  of  the  dog 
dying  out,  for  it  pays  to  breed  him,  and  he  draws 
at  shows  like  hunters  or  shire  horses.  As  the  deer- 
hound  or  wolfhound  adorned  the  baronial  hall,  the 
St.  Bernard  is  a  noble  appendage  to  any  mansion. 
Not  unlike  the  Newfoundland  in  shape,  look,  and 
coat,  he  is  even  more  massive  and  imposing.  He 
may  stand  over  three  feet  at  the  shoulder,  and  the 
girth  of  the  foreleg,  above  the  elbow,  will  be  more 
than  a  foot.  Think  what  strength  that  implies  in 
an  admirably  proportioned  body  ! 

No  dog  is  more  sociable  or  companionable 
than  the  collie.  Some  thirty  years  ago  he  became 
fashionable  in  the  south  :  breeders  who  make 
money  by  him  have  studied  his  points,  and  he  has 
multiplied  in  a  beauty  approaching  perfection.     It 


236  DOGS 

may  be  a  question  whether  he  will  retain  his 
hereditary  qualities  when  successive  generations 
have  had  no  practice  in  shepherding.  But  it  is 
certain  that  he  will  never  lose  his  intelligence. 
His  face  is  full  of  expression,  and  there  is  Scottish 
shrewdness  in  the  somewhat  small  eyes,  which  look 
as  if  they  had  contracted  with  blinking  in  the  teeth 
of  Highland  blizzards.  I  always  think  a  collie 
seems  out  of  place  in  the  south,  as  if  he  missed 
his  serious  occupations  and  was  bored  by  being  a 
gentleman  at  leisure.  There  is  a  wistful  pathos  in 
those  eyes  of  his,  when  I  see  him  chained  in  the 
portico  of  a  club,  waiting  for  his  master.  High- 
lander or  Borderer,  he  is  out  of  place  on  the 
pavements  of  Pall  Mall,  and  his  ancestors  knew 
nothing  of  chain  or  collar.  For  though  popularly 
supposed  to  come  from  the  far  north,  it  is  only 
comparatively  lately  that  sheep-walks  were  intro- 
duced in  the  Highlands,  and  unquestionably  the 
race  originated  in  the  green  glens  of  the  Borders. 
When  at  home  with  the  shepherds,  they  said  he 
could  do  everything  but  speak,  and  he  could  cer- 
tainly understand  spoken  language.  There  are  so 
many  well-authenticated  stories  of  his  sagacity  that 
we  can  only  believe  and  wonder.  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  is  told  by  the  Ettrick  Shepherd.  One 
misty  evening,  in  what  had  once  been  the  forest  of 
Ettrick,  500  of  his  sheep  were  missing.  Turning 
to  his  dog  for  sympathy,  and  not  dreaming  of  any- 
thing more,  he  ejaculated   despondingly,  '^  Sirrah, 


BREEDS  237 

my  man,  they're  a'  awa'  ! "  The  next  moment 
Sirrah  had  vanished  in  the  mist.  The  next  morn- 
ing the  500  had  been  gathered  in,  and  Sirrah  was 
mounting  guard  over  them.  '*  How  he  had  got 
them  all  collected  in  the  dark,"  says  Hogg,  "  is 
beyond  my  comprehension.  If  all  the  shepherds 
in  the  forest  had  been  there,  they  could  not  have 
effected  it  with  greater  propriety."  There  is  another 
suggestive  story  where  the  master  of  a  favourite 
played  off  a  practical  joke  on  a  friend  who  doubted 
the  dog's  gifts.  The  friend  went  for  a  walk,  and  the 
dog  was  ordered  to  ^*  shepherd  him."  Shepherded 
he  was  to  such  good  purpose,  by  the  great  collie 
jumping  up  before  him  and  barking  in  his  face, 
that  he  was  summarily  herded  back  to  the  house. 

Height  is  no  recommendation  in  a  collie,  and 
the  most  handsome  are  of  medium  stature.^  The 
small  and  well-shaped  head,  with  the  lofty  brain, 
is  that  of  a  thoughtful  philosopher,  and  the  ears 
lying  back  in  the  hair  of  the  neck,  are  cocked  on 
the  slightest  call  to  attention.  Used  to  listen  for 
his  master's  whistle  in  the  hill  blasts,  the  hearing 
is  extraordinarily  acute.  His  sturdy  forelegs  and 
his  whole  body  are  thickly  clothed  and  heavily 
feathered  against  these  blasts.     Yet  the  hair  on  the 

^  I  shall  venture  to  differ  from  Mr.  Shand  here.  I  like  my 
collie  big.  So  many  collies  nowadays  are  rather  weedy.  I  agree 
with  what  Mr.  Shand  says  about  the  "lofty  brain  "—though  the 
fanciers  scarcely  encourage  it,  their  type  of  collie  not  being  very  noble. 
—Ed. 


238  DOGS 

head,  though  thick,  is  short  :  a  very  wise  provision 
of  Nature,  for  long  locks  would  seal  his  eyes  with 
icicles.  Like  a  horse,  a  good  collie  is  of  no  parti- 
cular colour,  but  for  myself  I  should  prefer  red 
or  black  and  tan,  and  I  believe  they  give  the  best 
assurance  of  blood. 

There  is  another  sheep-dog  for  which  I  have  a 
great  fancy,  though  I  never  had  the  good  fortune 
to  own  one.  I  mean  what  is  called  the  old  English 
sheep-dog.  With  his  grim  but  honest  face,  his 
sturdy,  shaggy  body  and  his  queer  bob -tail,  I 
admire  and  envy,  as  I  see  him  trotting  at  the  heels 
of  some  veteran  of  the  Downs,  who  still  wears  the 
embroidered,  old-fashioned  smock  frock. 

Other  big  dogs  may  be  passed  over.  I  have  said 
something  already  of  the  bulldog  :  like  the  mastiff, 
though  often  amiable,  he  is  a  formidable  follower 
and  may  be  dangerous  on  occasion.  If  either 
bulldog  or  mastiff  goes  on  the  rampage,  neither 
man  nor  boy  can  control  him.  Coming  to  terriers, 
the  bull-terrier,  supposed  to  be  originally  a  cross 
between  the  bulldog  and  the  fox-terrier,  is  a  more 
manageable  animal,  though  inclined  to  be  quarrel- 
some. His  pluck,  as  a  rule,  is  undeniable,  and 
Hke  all  well-bred  terriers,  he  is  a  lively  companion. 
Plucky  as  he  is,  he  is  extraordinarily  sensitive,  and 
his  spirit  may  be  easily  broken  by  rough  treatment. 
He  is  intelligent  enough  to  understand  when  he  is 
fairly  treated,  and  to  resent  harsh  punishment  for 
trivial  faults.     The  best  bull-terriers  may  be   big 


BREEDS  239 

or  little  ;  they  may  weigh  anything  from  ten  to 
forty  pounds.  Perhaps  the  lighter  fox-terrier  is 
more  in  a  boy's  line,  and  in  the  last  thirty  years  he 
is  become  amazingly  popular.  There  cannot  be 
the  least  possible  objection  to  him  in  a  house,  for  his 
smooth  coat  carries  little  mud.  Lighter  of  make 
than  his  bull-brother,  he  is  equally  compact  of 
bone  and  muscle.  But  there  should  be  nothing 
coarse  about  his  wiry  figure,  and  the  shapely  head 
and  stern  are  significant.  1  don't  know  that  he  is 
more  curious  than  other  terriers,  but  his  light  head 
and  his  springy  action  seem  the  very  incarnation  of 
inquisitiveness.  He  is  always  hunting  the  bottom 
of  the  hedgerows,  and  as  for  vermin,  from  fox  or 
badger  to  weasel  or  water-rat,  all  are  his  natural 
game.  That,  however,  is  the  speciality  of  the  terrier 
race,  and  there  is  little  to  choose  between  them. 
I  have  said  so  much  of  that,  apropos  to  my  own 
Aberdeens,  that  there  is  little  to  be  added.  I  have 
a  predilection  for  the  Aberdeens,  though  they  have 
figured  little  at  the  shows,  because  I  know  their 
worth,  and  they  are  exceedingly  handsome.  I  was 
looking  at  a  couple  last  night — one  snoring  with 
his  chin  in  the  fireplace  ;  the  other,  with  cocked 
ears,  nodding  over  him,  and  waking  up  again — and 
I  wished  I  could  have  evoked  the  shade  of  Landseer 
to  paint  them.  I  confess  I  have  never  cared  much 
for  the  Skye  :  long  and  low,  and  enveloped  in  a 
woolly  fleece,  there  is  the  air  of  sad  endurance 
in  his  shaggy  face,  which  reminds  one  of  the  mists 


240  DOGS 

of  the  watery  Hebrides  and  the  sound  of  the  melan- 
choly ocean.  I  like  the  Dandie  Dinmont,  though 
his  somewhat  misshapen  head  seems  out  of  pro- 
portion to  the  body,  but  the  brain  is  full  of  wisdom, 
and  the  strong  jaws  can  close  like  a  fox-trap.  Bred 
on  the  Borders,  he  was  the  very  dog  to  bury  him- 
self in  the  fox-earths,  to  run  the  hill-fox  home 
to  his  lair  in  the  rocks,  and  to  worry  the  litters  of 
cubs  which  would  have  grown  into  formidable 
enemies  to  the  lambs.  As  for  the  Irish  terrier,  he 
is  comparatively  a  new  discovery,  as  we  know  him 
in  England.  Rough  as  a  badger,  hard  as  nails, 
good  alike  on  the  dry  land  and  in  the  morass,  he 
has  all  the  fire  of  the  Celt,  with  his  powers  of 
endurance.  As  befits  a  bog-trotting  or  bog-jumping 
dog,  he  is  longer  in  the  legs  and  shorter  in  the 
body  than  his  Scottish  cousin.  The  Yorkshire 
terriers — the  Airedales  and  Bedlingtons — are  not 
unlike  the  Irish  in  appearance  and  qualities,  and 
much  the  same  weight,  though  more  civilised 
looking.  But  with  any  one  of  the  terrier  breeds 
you  can  hardly  go  wrong ;  they  are  all  game  and 
inquisitive,  kindly  and  companionable. 

Spaniels,  like  terriers,  are  of  various  sorts.  Not  to 
speak  of  the  tiny  King  Charles,  a  pampered  darling 
only  good  for  a  lapdog,  and  the  brisk  little  cocker, 
of  long  and  illustrious  descent,  they  range  up  to  the 
heavy  Clumber.  Like  terriers,  they  make  capital 
companions,  though  as  they  are  silky  in  their  coats, 
they  are  more  ladylike  in  their  ways.     But  they  are 


BREEDS  241 

far  from  effeminate,  though  nature  never  intended 
them  to  draw  a  badger  or  throttle  a  fox.  They 
take  kindly  to  petting  on  the  hearthrug,  but  are 
never  so  happy  as  in  the  field.  It  makes  the  heart 
glad  to  see  their  keenness,  shaking  the  roots  of  the 
hedge  saplings,  or  tearing  through  the  thicket  of 
»  bramble,  without  the  slightest  regard  to  their  glossy 
coats.  In  the  field,  perhaps  the  Clumber  is  the 
most  useful,  though  he  soon  knocks  up  and  must 
be  worked  by  relays  ;  he  is  easily  trained  to  hunt 
within  half  gunshot.  He  is  not  such  a  cheery  dog 
to  shoot  over  as  the  merry  little  beagle  or  the 
more  excitable  terrier,  for  he  does  not  give  tongue. 
But  he  has  the  great  recommendation  of  being 
staunch  and  steady.  The  Clumber  is  a  French- 
man. In  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  his 
ancestors  were  sent  to  a  Duke  of  Newcastle  at 
Clumber,  as  a  present  from  the  Grand  Huntsman  of 
King  Louis  XV.  The  Sussex,  on  the  contrary,  as 
the  name  implies,  is  pure  English.  With  shorter 
legs  and  as  long  a  body,  he  is  lighter  built  than  the 
Clumber.  He  gets  more  excited  over  his  sport,  and 
throws  his  tongue,  though  never  vociferous.  The 
colour  is  dull  liver,  or  a  bright  golden  glow.  The 
Sussex  has  a  shapely  head,  and  his  charms  are  his 
soft  expression,  and  the  beauty  of  his  hazel  eyes. 
I  never  cared  greatly  for  spaniels  myself,  but  no 
dogs  seem  to  win  more  on  the  affections  of  their 
masters.  A  friend  of  mine,  whether  travelling  at 
home    or   abroad,  will    never    be    parted    from    a 

Q 


242  DOGS 

favourite   bitch   who  has  reared  him  many  Htters 
of  puppies. 

I  have  written  at  more  or  less  length  on  the  dogs 
I  consider  most  companionable.  But  there  are 
others,  not  so  common  or  not  so  popular,  whose 
acquaintance  is  nevertheless  worth  cultivating.  In 
the  way  of  friendly  companionship,  there  is  little  to 
be  said  for  the  pointer.  It  is  not  his  fault,  poor 
beast ;  he  does  his  own  work  to  perfection,  but 
from  time  immemorial  he  has  been  banished  to  the 
kennel  and  the  company  of  keepers  of  a  single  idea. 
It  is  different  with  the  setter.  He  is  so  handsome, 
and  his  face  is  so  full  of  sympathetic  intelligence, 
that  his  master  could  hardly  help  making  friends 
with  him  :  when  the  pointer  was  sent  off  to  the 
kennel,  the  setter  was  invited  into  the  parlour.  I 
have  known  many  setters  in  the  stubbles  and  on  the 
moors,  but  there  was  one  of  my  own  to  whom  I 
became  specially  attached.  It  was  a  case  of  love 
at  first  sight,  and  I  loved  her  so  much  that  I  was 
foolish  enough  to  bring  her  up  to  London.  She 
was  an  embarrassing  companion  in  walks  in  Pic- 
cadilly and  the  Parks.  Her  beauty  drew  all  eyes, 
and  in  the  affability  of  her  manners  she  met  the 
advances  of  all  and  sundry.  Sometimes  she  gave 
introductions  to  desirable  acquaintances  :  quite  as 
often  it  was  the  reverse.  Doubtless  the  dog-stealers 
were  on  her  track,  though  I  knew  it  not.  One 
dusky  evening  she  disappeared.  Moral  :  never  keep 
a  favourite  in  London. 


BREEDS  243 

If  you  chance  to  come  across  a  good  otter-hound, 
which  is  unlikely,  you  will  be  in  luck.  He  comes 
of  the  staunch  and  steady  old  Southern  hound,  and 
has  something  of  the  look  of  his  progenitors.  With 
a  constitution  of  iron  and  a  coat  like  rough  Irish 
frieze,  impervious  to  all  weathers,  he  is  the  ideal  of 
hardihood.  Wise  as  a  Lord  Chancellor  and  solemn 
as  an  archbishop,  it  is  only  slowly  you  learn  to 
realise  the  depths  of  his  wisdom.  Hunting  the 
wily  otter  in  scent  often  drowned  by  water,  has 
developed  his  sagacity  to  the  highest  pitch.  I  say 
it  is  unlikely  you  will  come  across  one,  for  the  pure 
otter-hound  has  been  dying  out  with  the  gradual 
diminution  of  the  otters.  And  it  must  be  owned 
that  the  otter  has  deserved  his  doom,  for  there  is 
no  more  inveterate  or  destructive  water-poacher. 

The  dachshund  has  come  into  favour  of  late 
years,  and  he  was  a  special  favourite  of  the  late 
Prince  Consort.  He  is  a  German  version  of  the 
Border  terrier,  and  with  his  preternaturally  long 
body  and  short  bandy  legs,  developed  by  hereditary 
scraping,  is  a  quaint-looking  little  beggar.  Like  the 
ant-eater  of  South  Africa,  he  seems  built  for  bur- 
rowing, and  as  dachs  is  German  for  badger,  he  doubt- 
less got  his  name  from  his  feats  in  the  badger- 
holes.  He  is  constantly  to  be  seen  at  the  heels  of 
keepers  in  the  great  German  woods,  but  now  is 
generally  used  like  our  spaniels  for  hunting  the 
coverts,  and  especially  in  roe  drives.  The  dachs- 
hund   is    susceptible,    and   though    game    to    the 


244 


DOGS 


backbone,  is  troubled  with  nerves.  If  you  take  him 
out  hunting,  he  is  extremely  independent,  slow  to 
answer  to  the  whistle  and  resentful  of  the  whip. 
His  high  spirit  is  easily  cowed,  and  then  he  sulks. 
And  if  too  highly  fed,  with  insufficient  exercise, 
he  is  apt  to  get  savage  like  a  mastiff  on  chain. 


h^,f^^ 


WhU^- 


iiijLmk 


'imm) 


Mii^I^SL.      "^ 


CHAPTER    III 


DOG   DISEASES   AND   THEIR   CURES 


The  worst  of  getting  attached  to  a  favourite  dog  is 
that  he  is  short-lived  at  the  best,  and  his  loss  can 
only  be  a  question  of  brief  time.  Moreover,  it  is 
provoking  to  know  that  dogs  take  no  sort  of  care 
of  themselves — they  will  lie  out  in  the  wet  and  cold — 
and  they  are  liable  to  many  unexpected  ailments. 
For  example,  they  catch  lung  complaints  in  damp 
and  draughts,  and  not  a  few  fall  victims  to  con- 
sumption. Unless  the  case  is  obviously  simple, 
when  you  see  that  something  is  wrong,  the  best 
way  is  to  consult  a  good  doctor.  But  that  is  not 
always  easy  to  find  ;  and  especially  in  country  dis- 
tricts, the   vet,  who  may   be   a  capable    horse  or 


245 


246  DOGS 

cattle  doctor,  looks  down  upon  dogs,  and  often 
knows  little  about  them.  If  you  live  in  the  town, 
where  favourite  dogs  are  always  ailing,  there  should 
be  no  difficulty  in  getting  good  advice.  If  you  live 
in  the  country,  there  is  pretty  sure  to  be  some  one 
trustworthy  within  reach — an  experienced  keeper 
with  a  kennel,  or  a  sporting  farmer  who  keeps 
greyhounds,  and  may  be  safely  trusted  for  simple 
diseases. 

As  I  have  said  repeatedly,  there  are  long  odds 
against  the  unlucky  dogs  who  are  confined  in 
town.  The  chances  are  all  in  favour  in  every 
way  of  the  country  dogs,  who  have  fresh  air  and 
exercise  and  the  free  range  of  the  fields.  Instinct 
teaches  them  to  doctor  themselves  ;  when  out  of 
sorts,  they  go  in  for  herbs  and  grasses,  which  cool 
the  blood  and  keep  the  stomach  in  tone.  So 
many  a  serious  complaint  is  averted.  But  there 
is  one  trouble  of  puppyhood  which  you  must 
count  with,  and  that  is  distemper.  There  is  still 
a  popular  belief  that  all  dogs  must  face  the  ordeal, 
but  that  is  a  delusion,  though  comparatively  few 
escape  it.  Sometimes  it  is  taken  very  mildly,  so 
much  so  that  it  may  pass  for  an  ordinary  cold.  Mild 
or  severe,  it  must  run  its  course,  though  it  will  be 
mitigated  or  relieved  by  prompt  treatment.  Dr. 
Gordon  Stables,  an  expert  on  dogs  and  their  dis- 
eases, says  it  is  really  a  fever  resulting  from  blood 
poisoning.  So,  till  the  dog  has  attained  his  full 
growth,  the  moral  is  that  you  should  look  out 
sharp  for  any  signs  of  it.     He  may  have  it   later 


DISEASES   AND   THEIR   CURES       247 

all  the  same,  but  then  I  think  he  has  more  strength 
to  resist  it,  and  will  pull  through  when  otherwise 
he  would  have  given  in.  Distemper  is  not  unlike 
influenza — indeed  one  form  of  it  is  so  defined — 
in  its  symptoms,  its  course,  and  its  consequences. 
When  a  bad  case,  it  is  lowering,  emaciating,  and 
depressing,  and  if  the  patient  does  recover,  he  is 
apt  to  suffer  from  those  consequences.  Chorea  or 
St.  Vitus's  dance  is  one  of  the  most  common  of 
them.  I  have  a  Scotch  terrier  now,  with  an  origi- 
nal constitution  of  iron  and  extraordinarily  strongly 
built.  He  caught  something  like  distemper  when 
two  years  old  ;  distemper  it  must  have  been,  but 
there  were  none  of  the  warning  symptoms,  and  he 
was  treated  too  late.  The  strength  of  his  consti- 
tution served  to  fight  it  off,  but  he  recovered  to 
be  victimised  by  chorea.  For  months  he  went 
through  a  course  of  contortions,  and  his  moanings 
were  painful  to  hear.  I  thought  seriously  of  put- 
ting him  out  of  his  misery,  but  while  there  is  life 
there  is  hope,  and  I  knew  the  strength  of  his  con- 
stitution. Now,  though  there  is  constant  twitching 
of  the  hind  legs,  especially  when  sleeping,  he  seems 
as  happy  as  any  dog  need  care  to  be.  Gradually 
the  tucked-in  tail  went  up  as  his  loins  regained 
much  of  their  old  elasticity,  and  when  he  hunts 
the  fields  or  the  hedges,  you  would  never  know 
there  was  anything  the  matter.  I  quote  him  to 
show  that  one  need  never  despair,  and  also  to 
show  that  there  are  limits  to  a  dog's  intelligence. 
Preternaturally  sagacious   and   objecting   to   pain, 


248  DOGS 

he  has  never  learned  anything  by  experience.  I 
believe  he  caught  the  disease  by  lying  panting 
in  the  blazing  sun  through  a  sultry  summer,  but 
that  may  have  been  excusable,  because  he  was 
young  and  foolish.  Now,  however,  he  should 
know  that  lying  out  in  cold  is  the  worst  thing 
possible  for  him,  and  yet  in  the  most  bitter  days  of 
the  winter,  though  wind  and  snow  touch  him  up 
immediately,  there  is  no  keeping  him  in  the  house. 
The  first  ordinary  symptom  of  distemper  is  one 
you  should  easily  discover  in  a  house  dog — he 
loses  appetite.  Then  his  nose  is  hot ;  he  is  always 
running  to  the  drinking-trough ;  he  loses  spirit, 
and  is  dull  and  languid.  The  cheeks  begin  to 
shrink  and  the  face  has  a  pinched  expression.  He 
is  either  costive  or  has  a  touch  of  diarrhoea.  Then 
there  will  be  a  discharge  from  the  eyes  and  nose, 
first  watery  and  afterwards  mattery.  When  you 
first  suspect  distemper,  it  is  always  safe  to  give 
a  dose  of  castor-oil — a  dessert-spoonful  or  a  table- 
spoonful,  according  to  size.  If  that  does  not  give 
relief  and  bring  back  his  appetite,  call  in  advice. 
In  any  case,  when  he  does  take  to  his  food  again 
he  must  be  strictly  dieted,  and  the  food  must  be 
light  and  nourishing.  Bovril  and  beef-tea  are 
good.  He  should  be  kept  scrupulously  clean  in 
a  warm  room,  well  ventilated,  and  the  discharge 
from  eyes  and  nostrils  should  be  sponged  away 
at  intervals.  Dr.  Stables  recommends  dissolving 
some  chlorate  or  nitrate  of  potash  in  the  water, 
and   prescribes  the  following  fever  mixture,  to  be 


DISEASES   AND   THEIR   CURES       249 

given  three  times  a  day  in  barley  water  :  "  Of 
spirits  of  ether,  from  30  to  120  drops,  according  to 
size ;  of  antimonial  Hme,  from  3  to  40  drops," 
which  last,  by  the  way,  seems  rather  a  broad 
margin. 

With  inflammation  of  the  bowels  the  poor  animal 
looks  deplorably  dejected  ;  no  wonder,  for  he  is  in 
great  pain,  and  when  the  attack  is  acute  his  moans 
are  pitiful.  The  remedy  is  doses  of  opiates,  but 
these  should  be  regulated  by  a  doctor.  Dogs  on 
the  chain,  or  in  confinement,  suffer  frequently 
from  constipation  ;  laxative  medicines  give  only 
temporary  relief.  The  remedy  is  plenty  of  exer- 
cise when  possible,  with  farinaceous  food.  If  the 
dog  has  the  run  of  the  country,  he  will  doctor 
himself ;  you  will  see  him  greedily  devouring 
grasses.  Diarrhoea  is  generally  a  consequence  of 
cold  or  exposure  to  damp.  Chalk  mixture  with 
laudanum  or  a  few  drops  of  chlorodyne  three  or 
four  times  a  day  are  recommended,  and  again  the 
food  should  be  farinaceous.  Of  chorea  I  have 
already  spoken.  It  is  almost  invariably  the  result 
of  distemper.  It  is  not  often,  perhaps,  that  one 
is  so  fortunate  as  I  was  in  saving  a  favourite  from 
a  bad  attack.  If  the  dog  is  young  and  the  whole 
body  is  badly  affected,  the  kindest  thing  is  to 
destroy  him  at  once  ;  but  that  is  always  a  ques- 
tion which  one  is  slow  to  settle.  When  that  dog 
of  mine  developed  the  disease,  I  wrote  to  consult 
one  of  the  greatest  living  authorities,  who  makes 
large  sums  by  his  kennel.     He  recommended  good 


250  DOGS 

living,  fresh  air,  massage,  and  warm  baths.  As 
for  results  he  would  hazard  no  prediction.  But  he 
said  that  the  year  before  he  had  two  cases  in  his 
kennels.  In  one,  which  seemed  comparatively 
slight,  the  victim  became  a  hopeless  cripple,  and 
was  destroyed ;  in  the  more  serious  case  the 
patient  recovered,  to  take  first  honours  on  a  show 
bench  at  the  Crystal  Palace. 

Consumption,  as  I  said,  is  far  from  uncommon  ; 
it  is  likely  to  make  progress  before  it  is  suspected, 
and  is  really  incurable.  It  begins  with  a  cough, 
but  there  are  no  signs  of  fever ;  the  victim  gradu- 
ally wastes  away,  and  in  time  there  is  habitual 
diarrhoea,  with  internal  bleeding  from  the  rupture 
of  blood-vessels.  Cod-liver  oil  may  be  tried,  but  it 
only  alleviates  the  symptoms  and  defers  the  end. 
When  the  disease  has  got  firm  hold,  it  is  kindness 
to  put  an  end  to  the  sufferer.  Inflammation  of  the 
lungs,  though  not  necessarily  so  deadly,  is  very 
dangerous.  The  signs  are  fever,  with  dry  nose  and 
inflamed  eyes  ;  the  dog  is  labouring  hard  for  breath. 
The  best  thing  to  do  is  immediately  to  take  advice. 
If  that  cannot  be  done,  the  treatment  recommended 
is  a  warm  bed  in  a  well-ventilated  room,  light  and 
nourishing  diet,  fomentations  of  hot  turpentine, 
with  quinine  and  cod-liver  oil  when  the  dog  is  in 
w'ay  of  recovery.  The  treatment  to  be  begun  with 
a  dose  of  three  parts  castor-oil,  two  parts  syrup  of 
buckthorn,  and  a  sixth,  syrup  of  poppies. 

Worms  are,  unfortunately,  very  common  ;  they 
attack  dogs  universally,  whether  well  or  ill  cared  for, 


DISEASES   AND   THEIR   CURES       251 

and  are  especially  fatal  to  puppies.  They  are  either 
the  round  worm  or  the  tapeworm.  The  former 
is  like  the  common  earth-worm,  and  from  four  to 
eight  inches  in  length.  There  are  several  species 
of  the  tapeworm,  and  one  of  them  is  sometimes 
yards  long.  It  may  be  imagined  what  horrible 
pests  they  are,  when  they  knit  themselves  together 
and  intertwine  with  the  bowels.  Sometimes  they 
crawl  into  the  stomach,  causing  violent  vomiting, 
and  thence  into  the  lungs  and  nostrils.  With 
young  dogs  especially  they  may  be  feared,  and 
should  be  anxiously  looked  for.  The  symptoms 
are  a  staring  coat,  emaciation,  notwithstanding 
a  ravenous  appetite,  low  spirits,  a  hot  nose,  and 
an  offensive  breath.  The  excrements  are  frequent, 
but  scanty,  and  there  is  an  occasional  discharge 
of  mucus.  If  you  dose  the  dog  with  a  strong 
aperient  —  a  risky  treatment  if  he  is  weak  —  you 
will  see  what  worms  he  is  troubled  with.  But 
all  treatment  is  more  or  less  hazardous,  for  the 
medicines  that  destroy  the  worms  are  poisons  or 
irritants  which  affect  his  health.  Some  authorities 
say  that  the  areca  nut  is  harmless,  and  it  is  cer- 
tainly the  most  innocuous.  The  doze  of  grated 
areca  is  two  grains  for  each  pound  of  the  dog's 
weight.  Cleanliness,  with  good  food,  are  the 
surest  preventives,  but  the  most  dainty  dogs  will 
swallow  the  foulest  garbage,  and  there  is  no 
guarding  against  that. 

Skin  diseases  are  troublesome  and  apt  to  become 
loathsome.     It  would  be  idle  and  endless  to  enter 


252  DOGS 

on  the  many  forms  they  take,  for  they  show  them- 
selves offensively  enough,  and  much  the  same  treat- 
ment applies  to  all.  There,  too,  cleanliness  and 
wholesome  feeding  are  the  safeguards,  but  they 
may  be  caught  by  contagion  in  low  company,  and 
sometimes  they  come  more  mysteriously.  The 
first  thing  is  thorough  washing  in  warm  water  with 
dog-soap.  If  the  patient  is  visibly  out  of  sorts,  he 
should  have  a  mild  aperient.  After  each  washing 
an  ointment  is  to  be  well  rubbed  in  —  sulphur, 
four  ounces  to  an  ounce  of  spirit  of  turpentine, 
to  be  used  every  second  day,  will  generally  suc- 
ceed. A  more  potent  dressing  is  green  iodide  of 
mercury,  two  drachms  made  up  with  two  ounces 
of  lard  ;  but,  as  the  iodide  is  strong  poison,  the 
dog  must  be  muzzled  to  prevent  licking.  Even 
with  the  sulphur  ointment,  to  guard  against  the 
licking,  it  is  well  to  have  an  infusion  of  bitter  aloe. 

Canker  of  the  ear  comes  generally  of  overfeed- 
ing or  rough  exposure.  The  trouble  is  that  the 
dog  will  shake,  and  covering  the  ears  with  a 
cap  increases  the  internal  inflammation.  He  must 
have  opening  medicine,  and  be  carefully  dieted. 
Then  nitrate  of  silver  wash  or  sulphate  of  zinc 
should  be  dropped  into  the  ear-passage  every  two 
or  three  days,  changing  from  the  one  to  the  other. 
The  external  sores  should  be  touched  daily  with 
caustic.^ 

^  Canker  in  dogs,  as  I  know  from  experience,  is  a  cruel  disease. 
Immediately  you  discover  or  suspect  it  by  the  way  in  which  the  dog 
shakes  its  head,  go  to  a  good  veterinary.  Taken  in  time  it  is  curable  : 
neglected  it  becomes  chronic. — Ed. 


DISEASES   AND   THEIR   CURES       253 

A  dog  bite  is  always  an  unpleasant  thing,  less 
from  the  pain,  which  is  little,  than  from  the  sub- 
sequent anxiety.  The  odds  are  so  great  against 
there  being  serious  danger  of  hydrophobia,  that  it 
is  never  worth  while  worrying.  Sir  Henry  Smith, 
quoting  medical  experts,  shows  that  even  in  tropical 
India  the  chances  are  inappreciable.  The  very 
name  ^'hydrophobia"  shows  how  little  our  ances- 
tors knew  about  the  matter.  Should  there  be  rabies, 
or  the  fevered  condition  of  some  poor  brute  that  is 
mistaken  for  it,  when  he  is  tied  up,  far  from  shrink- 
ing from  water,  he  eagerly  seeks  for  it,  in  un- 
quenchable thirst.  If  left  to  himself,  in  place  of 
bolting  ahead  through  the  country,  his  inclina- 
tion is  to  curl  up  and  sulk  in  some  dark  corner. 
In  place  of  being  specially  affected  in  the  dog-days, 
attacks  of  the  sort  are  more  common  in  the  spring, 
and  if  not  bullied  and  hunted  into  unwelcome 
exertion,  there  is  nothing  like  such  frothing  of 
the  mouth  as  in  the  cases  of  epilepsy  or  ordinary 
sickness.  Never  have  a  dog  shot  that  has  bitten 
you.  In  the  first  place,  very  likely  it  was  merely 
a  pardonable  ebullition  of  temper ;  but  if  he  were 
really  mad,  the  rabies  may  not  develop  for  weeks 
or  months,  and  so  you  are  left  in  anxiety.  Un- 
doubtedly the  safer  course  is  to  have  the  bite 
immediately  cauterised.  Personally — and  I  have 
been  occasionally  bitten  by  friends,  casual  acquaint- 
ances, and  entire  strangers  —  I  have  never  had 
recourse  to  such  heroic  measures.  Sucking,  en- 
couraging the  bleeding,  and  carefully  washing  the 


254 


DOGS 


wound,  are  the  simple  remedies  with  which  I  have 
been  satisfied.  At  the  same  time,  there  is  a  certain 
risk,  and  there  have  been  well-authenticated  cases 
of  hydrophobia.  One  of  the  best  authenticated, 
and  the  most  dramatically  told  in  all  its  details,  is 
that  of  the  Colonel  Lennox  who  fought  the  Duke 
of  York — the  Duke  of  Richmond  of  the  memorable 
Brussels  ball.  His  Grace,  when  Governor  of 
Canada,  was  bitten  by  a  tame  fox  chained  in  the 
barrack-yard  at  Montreal.  A  month  afterwards  he 
died  in  great  agony ;  for  some  time  there  were  no 
symptoms  of  any  kind,  but  then  serious  warnings 
caused  grave  uneasiness,  the  most  ominous  being 
the  unconquerable  aversion  to  crossing  water.  The 
Duke  was  on  a  tour,  and  on  some  pretext  he 
would  make  a  detour  rather  than  leap  his  horse 
over  the  smallest  grip  or  rivulet. 


Printed  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  •2^'  Co. 
Edinburgh  <5r»  London 


Webster  Family  Library  of  Veterinany  [vledicine 
Cummlnas  School  of  Veterinary  Medicine  at 
Tufts  University 
200  Westboro  Road 
North  Grafton,  MA  01536 


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